Another Way to Die
by gothiktenkasen
Summary: I carried on with the pretense that I only stayed because I had nowhere else to go, no one else to draw. I wondered how long it would be before he’d call me out on my lies. I think he enjoyed them. EricOC
1. Première Nuit

Disclaimer: If I owned True Blood, would I have had to buy the first season?

Rating: M for Mature

Content: Violence, language and sexuality.

Summary: I carried on with the pretense that I only stayed because I had nowhere else to go, no one else to draw. I wondered how long it would be before he'd call me out on my lies. I think he enjoyed them. EricOC

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Another Way to Die

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Chapter 1: Première Nuit

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I chewed on my lower lip, propping my elbows up on my knees and inhaling the warm, Louisiana night. The curb was surprisingly cool and people milled behind me, absorbed in their own thoughts and words. I was careful not to touch any of them. I wasn't quite sure where I was in Shreveport. I had arrived via bus in the mid afternoon and spent the remainder of the sunlight wandering around. I managed to get a few sketches in; there were plenty of tourists. The majority I had sat down with for sketch portraits were from the Mid-West, eager to be apart of the nightlife in a vampire friendly city. One of the women, a year or so out of Drake University had flirtatiously informed me that she was going to head over to a vampire bar later that night. I decided it wouldn't hurt to mosey on over and take a peek, maybe get a few drawings in.

But when I got there, the woman at the door, clad in leather pants so tight I thought they were sprayed on, jadedly requested my ID,

"Can't you just tell my age?" I asked, puzzled. She raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow, her half lidded eyes drinking me in like a cat deciding if getting the birdie in the cage would be too much trouble. I suppose she settled on too much trouble,

"I still need to see your ID," I shoved my hands into the back pockets of my cut offs,

"Look, I was booted two months ago; I don't got an ID," So she rolled her eyes and waved me away.

But sitting on the curb all night wasn't exactly the smartest of ideas and I wasn't too keen on entertaining it. I looked around and saw a few Gothed out vamps brooding in the middle of the line and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. Pursing my lips and swallowing my nerves, I stood and brushed off my backside. I strolled over and came close enough to hear one of them complain about being out of matches,

"Need a light?" I held out my Zippo, already lit. They eyed me, indiscriminately raking over my frame, my coarse hair, my skin too light to be black, too dark to be white. I held their gaze, hoping they wouldn't disregard me. They seemed like they'd been there before, like they knew the crowd and the establishment as well as their own fangs. Their leather and spandex gleamed in the outdoor lighting of the bar,

"Sure," A girl with a shaved head finally said. She leaned forward, her eyes never leaving mine. She inhaled the tobacco and the fire before tilting her head back to let loose a stream of pale smoke. Then the others lit their cigarettes. They spent a few minutes taking drags and relaxing, moving up in line and murmuring so quietly, I strained my ears to catch what they were saying. It was useless; they knew how to avoid human ears,

"I need to get inside," I finally blurted, "The lady at the door won't let me in 'cause I got no ID," They seemed a little surprised and I played with my lighter, keeping my hands busy and my eyes on them,

"Are you a fangbanger?" The girl asked curiously. A few of her companions, male and female, unsheathed their fangs and hissed softly. They subtly shifted their bodies, making themselves more domineering and seductive,

"No," I replied as she took another drag, "I draw. I wanted to sketch some vampires," They exchanged glances,

"You want to draw vampires?" One of them asked incredulously. I nodded,

"You don't want to get it on or take V- you want to _draw_,"

"Uh, yeah," There was a pause, as if they needed the time to see if they believed me or not. They began laughing. Finally, the girl settled to a chuckle,

"That- that's a good one. All right, c'mere. I'll take you through the back," She flicked her cigarette to the side and took my hand before I could protest. A tremor ran through my body. There were neon lights and pulsating bodies, Ziggy Pop playing in the back and sweat and smoke and lust and want and the dry, white hot burn up my nose as I leaned my head back, relishing in the cocaine, the heat and then- it was over, she was still pulling on my hand, weaving past the back of the line to an alley between Fangtasia and the warehouse next door. When we stopped, she turned to me, eyes smoldering,

"Now what?" I asked, willing myself not to back into the wall,

"Now we wait," She bared her fangs, "The name's Sabrina,"

"Rochelle," I replied, eager to keep the conversation light and her fangs out of my neck, "Rochelle Laveau,"

"Where're you from?" Sabrina cocked her head to the side, "That sounds like a Creole name,"

"It is," Nodding, I swept up my rat's nest into a makeshift bun, "Born and raised in New Orleans by my mémère,"

"Huh," and the door sung open before she could continue. Her friends stood by, furtively glancing about before ushering us in. We slipped by the bathrooms and down the hall towards the music and dancing. I thanked them before getting away, carefully dodging gyrating bodies and taking a seat at the bar. I looked around, trying to seem as untourist-y as possible. I was an out of towner, but not _that_ much of an out of towner. I had enough money for a drink and asked for a virgin Mojito, setting down my backpack. The bartender cocked an eyebrow,

"You sure 'bout that, cheri?" I almost grinned at the sound of his Cajun accent. It was nice to hear after the constant Southern drawls and the occasional Yankee pitch,

"Yep," So he shrugged and made me one. I sipped my drink, eyes wandering. There were dancers on raised catwalks, their bodies arching and moving with an ethereal, nightly grace. I tried not to make eye contact with anyone, tried not to look like an open invitation. A few doe eyed tourists walked around, gaping in awe and wonder. I spun around on my stool so that my back rested against the edge of the counter. I reached for my sketchbook and pencil and took to doing quick doodles of people. After a drawing out some heads and a couple poses of the dancers, I felt someone tap on the shoulder strap of my wife beater. I twisted a little. The Cajun vampire had leaned forward, palms pressed down on the edge of the sink behind the bar,

"You're wanted," I blinked, a bit confused,

"Like, by the law?" He chuckled and shook his head,

"Something like that," He nodded up at a dark dais where someone sat, like a king on some throne, "It's the third time he's looked over here. You better get on up there, cheri," Although the puzzlement settled in my veins like my mémère's potions, I complied, packing up my stuff. I swallowed and edged through the crowd. Before I reached the steps, the air seemed to smear and the woman from the door of the bar appeared before me. She placed her hands on her hips, leaning her weight on one long leg. Her eyebrow seemed to be permanently arched in some echo of dispassionate amusement. Behind her, I saw a tall, redhead in a second skin black dress walk up the stairs. The vampire in front of me drew my attention back to her,

"I thought I didn't let you in," It was a human statement and something in me knew that she was merely luring me in for a kill,

"You didn't," I confessed a bit as I glanced past her. The foxy ginger looked humiliated as he dismissed her, "I went in through the back," I wasn't going to snitch though. Snitching was a pussy thing to do,

"You're lucky Eric wants to see you," She replied dryly. My eyes traveled to him again. _Eric…_ He was too clothed in shadow for me to get a proper look-see. I squinted in the hazy darkness, "Let's not keep him waiting," She purred, her blonde hair flowing like liquid silk over her bare shoulder. I nodded and followed her up. She waved away a few admirers and stood at his right, her gaze forcing people back. I hooked my thumbs around my backpack straps close to my waist and resisted the urge to rock on the balls of my feet.

At the distance, I could make out more of him. His blonde hair was a little long and those highlights were in no way real. He had to dye his hair, I was sure of it. His features were sculpted, more than model-esque. Briefly, I thought of the old statues and paintings I had only seen pictures of: the works of Masters like daVinci, Raphael, Bernini! Things I had ached to see as a kid, things that seemed to blur into one person in front of me. He spoke with no introduction,

"You're new to the streets," His glacier blue eyes ripped me to pieces. I shrugged carelessly,

"Yeah," He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply,

"And young, too," I shifted, squaring my shoulders and planting my feet firmly beneath me. Some form of amusement glimmered in his eyes. We stared at one another for a few moments,

"Is that all you wanted to say?" I finally inquired,

"What are you doing here?" Eric asked, ignoring my question,

"Sketching," I replied shortly, "And I was drinking a virgin Mojito before you called me over here," If he was human, I swore he would've laughed,

"And what exactly were you sketching?" He murmured,

"You," I replied absently. I caught myself, "Not _you_ specifically," I skidded over my words as his eyebrow curved up by a heartbeat, "You as in, um, vampires," I caught my lip between my teeth, "I wanted to be an art student, but I'm broke," I found myself blabbing, "So I practice by drawing. A lot. I thought that vampires would be interesting models," He watched me for a moments, his gaze unwavering,

"Sit," It was more of a command than a suggestion and I complied, slipping my bag off and sitting where he gestured to his right. The seat was shadowed and I hoped I was hidden from view, "I've got things here, Pam," He continued, not to me but the leather clad woman. She nodded and ghosted down the steps, throwing a sidelong, sultry stare over her shoulder. We lapsed into a strange silence. I pressed my knees together; my right foot was shaking with that stupid, nervous tic mémère always reprimanded me for. It seemed to be getting on Eric's nerves, too,

"Knock it off," He hissed between his pearly teeth. I stilled, but it wasn't long before it acted up again. His hand shot out, gripping my thigh as he stretched towards me. I squeaked in surprise. The familiar shiver trickled down my spine and suddenly, it was freezing and there was sea wind and arctic sun and fur and leather, salt and steel. Calloused hands and calls in a language I couldn't understand or place. There was a deep-set pride and folded into it was the desire to see a pregnant wife and a bundle of children. There was a wooden deck and the ship broke the waves and the gulls flew overhead, crying out and then I jerked away, closing myself off, bringing my legs up to my chest, wrapping my arms around my knees,

"Sorry,"

I was back at the bar, sitting to Eric's right in shadows filled with doubt and lust. I tried not to look at him but in the corner of my eye, I could see his face held a curiosity, an interest. My heart slammed in my chest; I've had detailed sights before but nothing that ever felt so _old_,

"Not at all," I had almost forgotten that Eric was still there until he responded, his voice as smooth as buttermilk. I shifted uncomfortably, "What's your name?"

"Rochelle Laveau,"

"What was that just now, Rochelle Laveau?" I didn't answer. He regarded me thoughtfully before saying, "Perhaps you'll feel more talkative tomorrow," My head whipped to face him, eyes wide, eyebrows cinched together,

"What do you mean _tomorrow?_" He propped his chin up on his palm, the perfect picture of sex and masculinity and irrevocable power. It made me uncomfortable, which it shouldn't have! He wasn't the first vampire I had ever spoken with,

"I assume you have no place to stay," With his angling, I knew he wouldn't be the last,

"Yeah, but-" My griping was cut short and sweet when he interjected,

"But what? Are you refusing vampire hospitality, Rochelle?" The threat didn't hang empty between us. I clenched my hands around my elbows like jaws of a 'gator. A prickling sensation crawled up my neck and into my scalp and I was amazed my teeth didn't crack from all my gritting. My jaw ached a little. I may make stupid mistakes from time to time but I was no idiot,

"No," I finally said, defeated, "Thank you," I hoped he would ignore my half-heartedness. He didn't disappoint.

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Mémère is Creole for "grandmother". Let me know what you think!

Reviews are Love,

The Author


	2. Frank Sinatra est Mort

Disclaimer: Because Eric Northman wakes me up every morning in all his naked glory… NOT.

A/N: Wow! I'm hella shocked with all the initial support! Thanks so much, guys! :D

A/N: I actually got the title of this from someone who put this story on their alert (or favorite, I can't remember) and translated it into French.

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Another Way to Die

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_I can give you what you want  
I can make your heart beat short  
I can make you ice cream  
We could be a sweet team  
Melting in your vice dreams, sport_

- Ice Cream, by New Pony Club

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Chapter 2: Frank Sinatra est Mort

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The night dragged on and my eyelids grew heavy. Eric had kept me seated close to him. He observed the crowd, their movements and sounds. When something caught his eye, he sent Pam to take care of it. Many came, crawling at his feet and he waved them all away, sometimes with violence. For all his regal, I couldn't mistake him for being gentle. Cries of pain and the sight of blood accented the night like fine strokes of paint. I swayed in my seat, my body exhausted from the day's traveling and the night's adrenaline. I blinked sleepily and after stifling my eighth yawn, Eric summoned his blonde bitch. At least, that's what is seemed like to me. I had no idea the nature of their relationship. Were they partners? Friends? Rivals? Master and servant? Sire and progeny? Lovers?

"Pam, take her to my room. See that she's comfortable," I sat up abruptly, waking myself as best as I could. I nodded to Eric,

"Good night, uh, morning?" I smiled a bit nervously, "Thanks," His reply was a small noncommittal noise, as he looked me once over,

"And get her some clothes." He added as a minor afterthought. I followed Pam down the steps and through the diminishing crowd. She wound her way past the lingering bodies and around the corner of the bar. I made brief eye contact with the Cajun bartender and he looked after me curiously. She held open a door, clearing her throat to get me to hop to. We were in another hall and as soon as the heavy door closed behind me, the noise was instantly muffled. I wasn't as alert as I wanted to be and lost count of the doors and corridors we passed before we reached our destination,

"In here," I stumbled into the dark room. _Of course_, I thought, _Vampires don't need light to see_. A lamp clicked on. The light was low and created a small, dim pool. If I squinted, I could make out the floor. The lamp itself sat on a wooden table beside a high bed, "This is where you'll be sleeping," Pam informed me, her tone bored, "I'll be right back," I nodded, knowing she could see me and let my backpack slide down my arms. It landed on the floor with a soft thud. I took a deep breath and tried to untie a growing knot in my chest. I felt a little nauseas, from fear or excitement, couldn't tell. Part of me didn't want to know. My eyes slowly adjusted but I didn't spot Pam until she was right in front of me. I swallowed my gasp. She cocked an eyebrow; she knew,

"Hi," I said dumbly,

"I put some clothes on the dresser," She was nice enough to ignore my moment of stupidity, "Here's something you can sleep in," and she handed me a white, men's dress shirt. As I grasped it, my face grew hot; I had a sinking feeling of who it belonged to, "There's a bathroom behind the door on the other side of the bed,"

"Thanks," She nodded and left, the door quietly snapping shut behind her. I licked my lips before tossing the shirt on the bed and stepping away to remove my shoes and socks. I hummed a little to fill the silence as I unbuttoned and unzipped my shorts, letting them fall in a heap. I held the hem of my wife beater and slid it over my head. Removing my bra, I let that sit on the pile, too. The dress shirt felt crinkly clean in my hands and beneath the light scent of starch, I could faintly smell pine and elderberry and something masculine. Deciding not to dwell on placing it too specifically, I buttoned it up, rolling the sleeves a bit and tucking my gris-gris pouch underneath. I pulled back the white duvet cover and hopped in. Before I let my head hit the pillow, I took my hair down from the sloppy bun and quickly braided it. Snuggling into the sheets and comforter, I absently sniffed that same wild, masculine scent.

It was easy for me to fall asleep.

My mama was a whore. At least, that's what the neighbors had told me as a kid. I had run crying to my mémère, who wiped my tears and told me that they were full of horseshit. My childhood hadn't been an unpleasant one. I was home schooled by two of mémère's friends. Salome, a dark, doe eyed woman of Jewish descent, and Durand, a chestnut haired Southern gentleman who used to own a plantation. Both were vampires pledged to each other. They had known mémère since she was a young thing, still a babe in her mother's arms. They watched her grow up, learning hoodoo, becoming skilled and successful. They watched her fall in love and marry, watched her husband die early and watched her take me in. They agreed to help raise me, since they couldn't have babies of their own.

Durand was supportive in my decision to travel 'round Louisiana. Salome and mémère… not so much. But the two of us had won them over and I had left them two months ago, taking one backpack, two hundred dollars, some clothes and a gris-gris mémère had made especially for me. It hadn't been a bad experience. I always managed to find a place to stay at night and food to eat. Personal hygiene was a hit or miss. If I stayed somewhere with a shower, I took full advantage of it. If not… well, I dealt with it. I stuck with moderately populated areas when I could and tried not to end up in backwater, old-fashioned towns that would lynch my ass if I so much as looked at the wrong person.

Just because I passed the brown paper bag test with my Creole, café au lait skin didn't mean I was completely in the clear. But I hadn't gotten much flack and I kept my nose out of trouble all the same. I made money by doing street portraits and I hit the tourist hot spots whenever I could. It was a safer way to make some quick cash. I had taken to keeping my money as close to my skin as possible after my wallet was handed over at knifepoint. I lost fifty-three bucks and my ID, so what I had said to Pam was only a half lie. Admitting to being mugged wounded my pride and I wasn't quick to ante up that piece of knowledge.

When I woke from my pleasant, dreamless siesta, an arm was wrapped around my waist, a pair of legs tucked snuggly under mine. It was nice and warm and the lull of sleep was strong but I had a growing suspicion of who was spooning me. I opened my eyes, shifting. Someone's nose nuzzled into the nape of my neck. It tickled,

"Five more minutes," Eric murmured,

"Uh," Now that was awkward. My movements were jerky as I tired again to separate myself from him. I leaned over and turned the light on, cranking up the brightness and sitting up. He was scowling when I looked at him, his blonde hair slightly mussed, "This is awkward," I voiced,

"Really?" He growled, "I call it sleeping," I flushed and averted my eyes uncomfortably,

"Why does it have to be in this bed?" My fingers fidgeted, playing with the fabric of the duvet cover,

"Because it's my bed," Damnit,

"Why do we have to be so close?" My complaining probably wasn't going to get me anywhere, but considering the circumstances, I thought it was appropriate. Eric's face remained annoyed at my pestering and the part of me that wasn't slightly intimidated almost felt bad. Almost,

"Because it's a good way of insuring my investment stays alive," He bared his teeth and they glinted in the artificial light. His beauty didn't distract me from my curiosity. It pressed against me like a potential lover and I eagerly drank it in,

"I'm an investment?" My expression easily became quizzical as his shifted into mild amusement. He must have realized that, after all, I was only human,

"Of sorts," I pursed my lips. I don't like vague answers and I found that vampires were pretty damn good at giving them. Twisting and propping myself up on the pillows and my elbow, I asked,

"How am I an investment?" He quirked an eyebrow,

"When I said that you'd be more talkative tomorrow, I didn't mean _your_ tomorrow. I meant _my_ tomorrow,"

"Like, night?"

"Yes," Eric replied, still distantly amused, "Now go back to sleep,"

"I _can't_," I whined, "This is so… so…"

"What?" He deadpanned. I chewed on my lip, nervous to go on. I mean really, what the _hell_ was I doing in a bed with a vampire who I didn't know and who's intentions were completely and totally unmentioned? _On top of that_, he has an ape-shit bitch-tastic partner of some kind who didn't seem particularly fond of me. Oh, and he noticed when I saw a part of his life. Great,

"Weird," I finally said, "This is weird. It's hinky,"

"Hinky?" Eric looked skeptically up at my, his head tilted down enough to seem patronizing,

"Yeah; _hinky_," I folded my arms across my chest, "I've got a lot of questions," His lips twitched,

"I'm sure you do,"

"So-"

"Can't this wait 'til evening?" He cut me off and I hoped he was feeling as exasperated as I was,

"What time is it?" He rolled over and when the pillows shifted beneath his head, I could see he was looking at a clock. The green numbers glared merrily against the black screen,

"Two in the afternoon. Far too early to be up," Snaking an arm over my hip, he clicked off the light. Things became swimmingly black and I yelped when he yanked me forward and down, tucking me under his chin. I could smell the pine and the elderberries and-

Blood. I could smell blood. He had fed, on Tru Blood or humans, I didn't know. It was too soon for me to ask. His collarbone was level with my eyes, my nose almost brushing the neckline of his black a-shirt. I could make out the detailed ribbing. I had never been this close to a man, at least, not intimately. I flushed. What was there to say that there was anything intimate between us? I was an idiot. He probably wanted to pick my brains and drink me dry. Or maybe he wanted a human pet. Or maybe he was trying to make Pam jealous. But what she could be jealous of was beyond me; we were two polar opposite women in the looks department.

What did he mean when he called me an investment? And why'd he have to protect me? Protect me from what? What exactly out there constituted him snuggling up to me like this? And he sure as hell didn't seem the snuggling type,

"If you insist on staying awake, you'll be exhausted for tonight," His chest thrummed when he spoke and the vibrations were not unpleasant. Relenting, I shut my eyes.

I knew I was dreaming. I was back in the bayous, on the river in a little wooden boat. A lantern hung off the bow, illuminating the low mist and tangled roots. The air was damp, it felt like monsoon season and the crickets sang away into the night as fireflies skirted around. The paddle in my hands was smooth and I easily cut into the water. The waves lapped at the sides of the dinghy. I stopped rowing. I set the paddle down beside me in the boat and I let the slow current take me.

Eric stood before me, walking on the water like Jesus Christ himself. He regarded me with a certain distance,

"What are you doing here?"

What was that supposed to mean? I was dreaming! Why did it matter where my dreams took me?

"What are you doing here?" He repeated. I furrowed my brow,

"I don't know,"

The alarm screeched by my ear and my eyes shot open. I was sprawled across the bed on my stomach, the sheets thrown askew to one side. I reached over to silence the stupid little shit. It read seven forty-two pm. The bed was empty. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I could hear the shower running through the wall. Eric had turned the lights on and I could see that the bathroom door was cracked open. Steam seeped up to the ceiling, fogging up the cabinet mirror above the sink. His clothes littered the floor from the edge of the bed right on into the bathroom. I took the chance to look at the room in more light.

It was simple. The dark gray walls were undecorated and the furniture was black and modern, no intricate carvings or old world class to be seen. There were several chests of drawers and a sliding door directly across from me, probably to a closet. There were no windows. The duvet on the bed, along with the sheets and pillows, was a crisp white. Two tables sat on either side of the bed and both held identical lamps. All in all, the room was clean cut and minimal. I didn't hear the bathroom door open further but I could smell Eric when he walked in. Pine and elderberries. I tried to focus on his face, as he had nothing but a towel held loosely around his hips. I could feel my face slowly growing hot. This was all new to me; the club, wearing a man's shirt, being in bed with said man and waking up to him in a towel, dripping wet and smoldering like a-

Shut up, Rochelle,

"Do you like it?"

"Uh," What?! What kind of vain, self-centered pig asks if a girl likes- Oh. He meant the room. Not the most intelligent way to start the evening, but it was a start nonetheless. He didn't wait for an answer. Instead, he threw a clean towel at me,

"Get in the shower," It was an order. Grudgingly, I dragged my sorry ass out of bed, holding the towel in one hand and yanking my hair free with the other. Eric shut the door behind me and I was alone in the bathroom. It, too, was pristine, with one charcoal wall and the floor and other three walls made of a dark tile. There was tub set in a raised dais and frameless shower made of foggy glass. I hooked the towel onto the rack and stripped down. Slipping my gris-gris off over my head, I turned the water on and hopped in. For a moment, I stared at the soaps and shampoos, the water pounding down on my head and shoulders.

There was something intimate about wearing a man's shirt and sleeping in his bed but something down right sensual when it comes to using his soap and shampoo. Especially when he just got out of the shower. I was going to smell like him and if I stayed, I was going to smell like him for a while. If another vampire- hell, if a _human_ caught wind of me, they'd think the obvious.

I wasn't sure if I was ready for that.

Eric opened the door and I near jumped out of my skin. His figure was blurred but I could tell that he exchanged his towel for black pants. He was still shirtless. Distracting my hands with the shampoo, I squirted it out onto my palm, slapped my hands together and began massaging my scalp,

"Don't you have the decency to let me bathe in private?" I demanded through the quiet roar of the showerhead. He ignored me, hanging something up on the towel rack and closing the toilet seat. Sitting on the lid, he said to me,

"You're going to be staying here," I swallowed, pushing some soapy water away from my eye,

"How long?"

"For as long as I say so," I rinsed my hair, twisting out the dirty water, "I'm going to ask you some questions and it will be in your best interest to answer them truthfully," Hesitation was not an option for me at that point,

"All right," I moved on to the conditioner,

"How old are you?" Frowning, I combed my fingers through my hair, stepping away from the onslaught of water. That was hinky. I thought he knew from last night. He said I was young,

"I thought you knew," Then again, anyone might be young compared to him,

"Answer the question," I moved some of the bottles around until I found a face wash. Leaving the conditioner in, I informed him,

"I turned eighteen three months ago," The party had been small, as all my birthday parties were; just me, mémère, Salome and Durand, the four of us in mémère's backyard that sat right by the river. Piping hot peach cobbler, fresh cream, home made vanilla bean ice cream, sweet ice tea and lemonade- of course, mémère and I were the only ones who could really eat. Salome and Durand often disappeared for a few hours after,

"Where are you from?" I rubbed tiny circles of facial cleanser into my skin, scrubbing around my nose, below my eyes and my forehead and temples,

"Born and raised in New Orleans. My mémère took care of me," The face wash tingled, making me feel chilly. I rinsed my hair and face before shutting off the water. I stood there awkwardly, ringing out my hair and waiting for him to leave. Eric got up and tossed my towel over the top of the shower. I caught it before it could hit the wet tiles,

"Does you mémère know you can see things?" My breath hitched in my chest. Damnit, damnit, damnit! I was hoping he wouldn't ask me about that,

"Most people can't tell," I replied coolly. I just wanted this to go away,

"Most people aren't eleven hundred years old," Touché,

"Yeah, she knows," I admitted in defeat. No sense in trying to win an age war with a vampire. I patted myself dry and firmly wrapped the towel around my body. The glass door popped open. Eric was still standing there, arms crossed over his massive chest. I could see the muscle beneath his skin, coiled like steel cables. I shifted from one foot to another uneasily until he rolled his eyes and turned around. Fresh clothes were folded neatly on the toilet lid and I dropped the towel to dress,

"How does it work?" I fastened the bar and pulled on the panties quickly. There were chocolate colored shorts with a wide, two button waist line and a goldenrod, long scoop neck t-shirt. Those went on quickly, too.

"I don't know; I have to be touching someone, skin to skin," Picking up the towel, I wrapped my hair and twisted, trying to get it as dry as possible. I jumped when I turned to find Eric facing me once more, toothbrush held out to me. My eyes flickered down to it. A pea sized drop of toothpaste already sat on the bristles. I wrapped my fingers around the orange handle,

"Does it happen only with people?" He turned the faucet on and leaned against the wall as I brushed my teeth. I made him wait,

"It's happened with objects," I spat into the sink and rinsed my mouth, "but only things that are important," I took the towel out of my hair and shook my head before patting my mouth dry and hanging it back up on the rack,

"How do you mean?" He followed me out of the bathroom and sat on the bed when I knelt to dig through my backpack for my hairbrush,

"Well," I found it and hopped onto the bed, crossing my legs, "It's not like I can touch a broom from Wal-Mart and see how it became a broom," I yanked the boar bristle brush through my hair, my scalp accustomed to the pulling,

"So you see only the past?" Had I not been so uncomfortable, his curiosity would've made him all the more attractive. I stopped,

"Look, I don't know much about it. I never really tried to figure it out. I just let it happen," We stared at each other for a moment or two, maybe longer,

"I see," He didn't move and neither did I. Eric seemed to be waiting, so I took a shot in the dark,

"Would it be all right if I asked you something?" He paused and his ice-cold eyes devoured me, shredding me apart to find what, I didn't know,

"What is it?" I racked my brain for all the things I could ask: when can I go home? Why are you keeping me here? Are you going to eat me? What am I supposed to be doing? Does Pam want to eat me? Will I be allowed to eat? Am I stuck in this room forever? Why do you think I need protection? How am I an investment? Could I please use your washing machine? Instead, I asked,

"Can I draw you?" With every silent moment, my heart beat a little faster, my chest constricting painfully. I didn't know why; it was just happening. It shouldn't happen. I was just asking him to sit still for me, not proclaim his undying love or some bullshit. But that thought didn't stop my heart from jumping when he said,

"Yes," Something flooded into my veins but I quickly stifled the feeling, unwilling to investigate and identify it,

"So, can I do it when you're sitting on your… throne, chair, whatever it is?" I waved my hand absently, unable to really articulate with everything happening as it was. I was staying with a vampire who, as I recently discovered, was eleven hundred years old; far older than Salome and Durand, who were ninety-seven and two hundred and forty-three, respectively. On top of that, we recently, very, very recently, discussed my sight, something I had only ever spoken to my family about,

"No. Stay in here. I don't want you out there," He rose, striding over to the closet. Sliding the door open, he stepped inside,

"Why not?" I demanded, following him. His walk in closet was almost as big as the bedroom itself. Almost everything was black. He chose an ebony dress shirt and pulled it on. Facing me, his hands deftly flew up the buttons and he quirked an eyebrow,

"Because you're a virgin," I colored,

"How do you know?" I sputtered, hands curling into defensive fists. My stomach tightened,

"I can smell you," Oh, well, _of course_. I mean, who couldn't sniff a virgin out? Like I was supposed to know that!

"So?" I challenged,

"Virgin blood is most tempting to us," My hand fluttered to my neck, my humiliated anger hurriedly replaced by a knot of nerves,

"Did you…?" He almost grinned,

"No. Not even a taste," He slipped past me and I was quick on his heels. I couldn't decide if being around him was exciting or just plain unnerving, "I have good self-restraint. You should keep that in mind," What he was really saying was: _I can break you in two or have my way with your pathetic human body but I choose not to, so don't give me a reason to change my mind._ I nodded,

"But would you?"

"Would I what?" I shrugged, trying to keep my tone light. Drinking blood was small talk to vampires, after all,

"Drink me like a liquor," He chuckled,

"If I was so inclined, maybe," I swallowed, nodding once more. Fan-fucking-tastic. Eric flicked a cover up and pressed a button. A flat screen plasma TV lowered from the ceiling, directly in front of the closet. My eyes must've been the size of dinner plates because Eric was smirking. I sunk onto the edge of the bed as he wound around to the table on his side of the bed. Jesus, I was already dictating who slept on what side! What was this coming to? A remote control plopped into my lap,

"Here, keep yourself entertained," I looked up at him,

"And you're going out there?"

"Yes, but I'll be back," My stomach growled, "With food?" I asked pitifully,

"With food," He confirmed. Eric eyed me one last time before turning and leaving. I heard the click of a lock behind him and sighed. At least my confinements were comfortable.

---

Supposedly, ash trees smell like elderberries. Eric smelling like elderberries (therefore ash trees) and pine is a reference to Yggdrasil, the Norse Tree of Life (supposedly an ash).

Reviews are Love,

The Author


	3. Sang Vrai

Disclaimer: Because there's a hot, sexy Viking vampire in my bed EVERY NIGHT… Yeah, right.

A/N: I've come to realize that this is a pretty dialogue heavy story, which is good because my dialogue skills need work.

A/N: Does anyone read these notes? Ha, ha.

A/N: Hi, I reposted this chapter after a few edits. There's a new, small paragraph at the end. Thanks for the support!

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Another Way to Die

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Chapter 3: Sang Vrai

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_When you came in the air went out  
And every shadow filled up with doubt  
I don't know who you think you are,  
But before the night is through,  
I wanna do bad things with you_

- Bad Things, Jace Everett

---

I had managed to flip through the eight hundred channels Eric was subscribed to _twice_ before he returned. I had been lazing on the bed, sketchbook open to the side, eraser shavings on the floor. The door unlocked and for a moment, I thought it was Pam. But Eric stepped in, carrying a nondescript brown paper bag in one arm and a case of Tru Blood in the other. I sat up, folding my legs Indian style,

"What'd you bring me?" He shrugged,

"Whatever it is you humans eat," Eric set the bag in my lap. It was warm and a little heavy. My stomach had been gnawing on itself for the past few hours, so I eager ripped open the bag. Eric looked on, amused at my antics. There was a few bottles of icy water, a bag of dark red cherries and big, fat cheeseburger,

"At least it's not fried chicken and watermelon," I muttered,

"What?" But I had the sneaking suspicion that he had indeed heard me,

"Nothing," I replied quickly. He hummed in response, setting his case of Tru Blood down on one of the chests. I unwrapped the burger from the wax paper case to find that it wasn't from a fast food joint, which meant the patty was a good inch and a half thick and covered in real cheddar. I peeled off the top bun,

"Avocado!" I exclaimed,

"Do you not like avocados?" Eric asked with a frown,

"No! I do; just haven't had them since I left home," I picked off the tomatoes and onions and put the bread back in place. After taking a bite, I said, "I don't like onions and tomatoes,"

"Anything else you don't like?"

"Bell peppers. But I like normal peppers. I like spicy things," I took another bite before unscrewing a bottle with one hand, "I don't like eggplant," Taking a swig, I paused, allowing the cool, crisp water to wash away the delicious grease of human food, "Is there anything you don't like?"

"Cold blood," I wasn't sure if he was joking. He drank Tru Blood delicately, so that no red stained his alabaster mouth. So pale and cold, all his features were like ice. I frowned, remembering the things I had seen,

"So," I began slowly, "I know you said you were old,"

"Eleven hundred," He corrected,

"Yeah," I eyed him thoughtfully, "I was just wondering, um, if you could explain what I saw," He shrugged,

"I don't know what you saw," I almost choked,

"Excuse me?"

"I don't know what you saw," He repeated, eyeing me from behind the rim of the bottle,

"But I thought," My voice faltered, "Then how did you know-"

"Just because I could sense that you had seen something doesn't mean I know what you saw," Eric explained patiently,

"Oh," I left it at that, finishing my burger in silence. Stealing furtive glances at him, I could see his lip curl ever so slightly when he finished his second bottle. Turned out I wasn't as furtive as I thought I was,

"Ask,"

"Huh?"

"You look like you want to ask me something," He waved his hand, "Ask,"

"Um, okay," I wiped my hands and mouth on a napkin, "What's it taste like?"

"Like blood," He deadpanned. I scowled,

"So, does blood not taste good to vampires?"

"_Fresh_ blood tastes good to vampires," Eric replied easily, "Tru Blood tastes stale," I popped a cherry into my mouth. The flavor rolled over my tongue, the perfect combination of sweet and tart,

"Do you still feed on humans?" I asked curiously. Salome and Durand had tried to make the transition over to Tru Blood but it had been difficult for them, for Salome more so than Durand. Something mischievous glinted in his eyes,

"Perhaps," I spat the seed out into a napkin and shook my head. Vampires and their mind games. I excused myself to wash my hands in the bathroom. Still feeling the grease between my fingers, I turned the faucet on.

My insides felt all torn up inside. Eric was so- so… Interesting was too boring and over used. Mysterious just sounded tacky. There was something about him though… Something that made my heart jump and my brain tingle. I knocked it up to him being an old and powerful vampire. But what word was there for him? A word that could sum up what little I had seen? Enigma. Yes, Eric was an enigma. It was almost like there was a constant mist swirling around him, like low fog on a river. Sometimes, it parted; sometimes I caught a glimpse, a fleeting remainder of what he might have been like as a human, how he might have lived and loved and died, had he not been bitten.

When I came back, Eric was lounging in my spot, flipping through my sketches,

"That's mine!" I leapt at him, desperate to retrieve it. He rolled away, gracefully landing on his feet like an oversized cat, "Give it back!" I scrambled over the sheets to get to him but he raised his hand, fingers barely caressing the spot right below the hollow of my throat. The push was gentle, I barely felt it but Eric sent me sprawling across the bed,

"No," He sounded amused as he continued to skim through my sketchbook. I picked myself up,

"That's a violation of my privacy!" He held his arm above his head, smirking as I jumped up, trying to grab it. I settled on climbing up him like a cat up a tree. With his free hand, he plucked me off and set me on the bed. He paused, eyes focused on one of my sketches. Finally, he said,

"You may continue drawing me, if you wish," and he handed it back to me. I clutched the black book to my chest and avoided making eye contact,

"Thanks," I said carefully, "It's not like I have anyone else to draw," Something tingled in the air, so I twisted around. I crawled over to my side of the bed to drop my sketchbook into my bag. Throwing my legs over, I stood. The air pulsated and Eric was at my side. He set his hand on the drawers in front of me,

"These are yours. There are clothes inside,"

"Thanks," I pulled open a drawer to peek inside. Brightly colored shirts were neatly folded away; mainly tank tops and t-shirts, some with patterns or designs and some without. I tilted my head to look up at him, "How did you know my size? Or what I'd like? I've been here less than a day; when did you get these?" His eyes never left my face,

"I've found that I'm a fair judge in women's clothing," He replied seriously. I almost snorted, "You're a young girl, so I went to where young girls shop. I know someone who works there, so she let me in. I brought them when you were sleeping," I pursed my lips and shook my head. He raised an eyebrow, "What is it?"

"Nothing," I shrugged. Eric rolled his eyes,

"Well, obviously you don't seem to dislike the clothes," I allowed myself that unladylike snort I had resisted, "So it has to be something else," Facing him, the small of my back pressed against the hard edge of the dresser, I crossed my arms,

"Why are you keeping me here?" He cocked his head to the side, leaning forward so that his palms rested on either side of me on the wood. Eric towered above me and I swallowed any intimidation he instilled in my gut,

"Is it a problem?" His breath tickled my skin,

"Maybe," I replied quickly,

"Well, I'll do whatever I want," Glaring at his cocky answer, I ducked out from under his arms,

"You suck," Which was true; as a vampire, he did suck. Crinkling my nose, I stuck out my tongue. He seemed bored with my childish antics and straightened,

"Are you quite done?"

"Yeah," I sulked. Ever the wet blanket. But I forgot sometimes; vampires are moody. I can't blame them for not humoring my immaturity,

"Good, because there's something I want to tell you," That captured my interest like a bear trap. I was instantly alert, arms unfolding to my sides, fingertips tingling in anticipation,

"What is it?"

"Rochelle, I want you to stay in here tonight,"

"Um, okay…" Talk about a let down,

"I mean it. No matter what you hear, you are not allowed to leave this room," He loomed above me, gazing down, his eyes incredibly intense. Something flickered in his face, something I didn't quite catch… something I was a little glad to have missed, "Do you understand?" Velvety and smooth- his voice alone seemed to vouch for his ability as a lover. But then, the mood changed as I realized what exactly was happening. Or trying to happen, at least. I blinked,

"Are you trying to glamour me? Because that don't work," His reverie broke,

"What?" True confusion nipped at his face. I almost laughed,

"I grew up with two vampires; trust me, it don't work," His eyebrow quirked again, curious,

"That is something I'd like to discuss when I get back," I shrugged but a cheeky grin was splayed across my face,

"If you say so," Eric nodded, backing away until his hand was on the doorknob,

"I do," I flopped down on the bed, "And, Rochelle?" I pulled myself up a little,

"Yeah?" He stared at me long and hard. It felt like he was trying to dive down my eyes, deep into me, searching for something, looking, looking… Discomfort settled in my stomach like a sack of rocks,

"I mean it when I say don't leave this room," Why was he being so hinky?

"All right, all right," I waved my hand dismissively. He left, locking the door behind him. What, didn't he trust me? Although, I suppose one twenty-four hour period isn't really enough to build a relationship on. Relationship? Where the hell did I come up with that? There was no relationship. None. Zip. Zilch. As the Spanish say: Nada. We were acquaintances, nothing more.

But acquaintances are relationships nonetheless. God fucking damnit. I grabbed a pillow, sulkily clutching it to me. Who did Eric think he was, making me like him so quickly? Whoa there, cowgirl. Who said anything about liking him? What was there to like? I mean, sure, there's the golden hair, the alabaster skin, the true blue eyes, the muscle, the body and, boy, did he have a body, but looks aren't everything.

Yet those looks made me want to do bad things.

And on top of the looks, there was a blatantly obvious intelligence. He was articulate and perceptive, able to pick up on my subtleties... Then again, according to Salome and mémère, I am the queen of the obvious. These feelings were unsettling. I had never liked anyone romantically in my life. I never had to. Not that I had to then but there was something about Eric, something magnetic. It was hard for me to keep my eyes off him.

I threw the pillow as hard as I could at the black barred headrest. Life wasn't fair. I grumpily ate a few more cherries and finished my bottle of water, setting the leftovers on my wooden dresser. Dumping my clothes carelessly on the ground, I slipped on Eric's dress shirt and crawled into bed. I stayed awake in the dark, staring at the blackness and trying to dissect the growing sensations in the pit of my stomach and the way my heart skipped annoyingly whenever I recalled any close proximity we had shared. It was absolutely humiliating.

I drifted somewhere between sleep and consciousness. In the distance, I could hear something. I strained to catch the sound, but I was tired, my brain refusing to acquiesce. It was a painful noise, something dark and alarming. What could it be? What could it be? Then, a second time, and a third, and a fourth until it was a long, wavering note. Screams. Someone was screaming.

When I woke up at twilight, Eric's hair was short.

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The fried chicken and watermelon line is a Dave Chappelle reference. Sorry this chapter is so short. Think of it like a footbridge.

Reviews are Love,

The Author


	4. Nouvelle Lune

Disclaimer: Mmmm, hot, blonde Viking… If I have to dream and drool, it means I don't own it.

A/N: This does take place right before season two but deviates after the second episode, just to clarify. And an aspect/part of episode three is involved.

A/N: So… I've noticed that I've been getting an awful lot of alerts and faves but a relatively small percent of you folks actually review. A bit disappointing.

A/N: Alex is in Lady Gaga's Paparazzi video, something I found humorous and entertaining.

A/N: The lyrics at the beginning of each chapter are significant to the story itself, if not the chapter. They're also apart of the playlist I've created to go along with this whole mess and if anyone has song suggestions, I'm all ears!

A/N: This chapter was hard to write. I'm not quite sure why, but I hope it's long enough. I feel bad for not posting sooner. Also, I edited chapter three and added a little bit to the end.

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Another Way to Die

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Chapter 4: Nouvelle Lune

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_I know the player with the slick   
Trigger finger for Her Majesty   
Another one with the golden tone voice   
And then your fantasy, another bill   
From a killer turned a thrill into a tragedy_

_A door left open, a woman walking by   
A drop in the water, a look in the eye   
A phone on the table, a man on your side   
Someone that you think that you can trust is just   
Another way to die  _

_Another tricky little gun Giving solace to the one   
That will never see the sunshine   
Another inch of your life Sacrificed  
For your brother In the nick of time   
Another dirty money, Heaven sent honey   
Turning on a dime_

- Another Way to Die, by Jack White and Alicia Keys

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Eric was still sleeping, his short hair falling into his closed eyes. The lamp on his side was on low, the light creating a soft, dim pool. With his arm draped over my waist, my legs tangled in his, I was able to study his face more closely. He had a light, five o'clock shadow. I briefly wondered if it would grow back if I shaved it off. Not that I would even be able to get away with pressing the razor to his skin. He'd wake up fast enough to slam my head through the wall. I was careful not to touch him, at least not any more than I was already. He looked older than myself, not necessarily eleven hundred years older but physically older than eighteen. When had he been turned? Who was he before? Was his name always Eric? What about those feelings I experienced, when I briefly saw a part of his life? A wife? Children? How many? Boys or girls or both? How old were they? Who was his wife? Was she beautiful? Were they alive when he was turned into a vampire? Did he kill them? Did he miss them?

There were always more questions asked than answered, as I discovered with Eric. Even in sleep, he looked the same. Poised, cool and confident. Even though his hair was mussed from sleep, I decided that I liked it better short. It seemed blonder than before… A cord around his neck caught my attention. It traveled down his collarbone, looping back up to hold an aged, gleaming fang. I gently traced it with my index finger. It was smooth with age. Eric opened his eyes and I almost recoiled under his shocking blue gaze,

"Do you like it?" My nose tingled when he spoke,

"What is it?" Curling my lip, I winced at the stench that gently clung to his skin and breath. How could I not have noticed it before? "You stink," I muttered, pushing him away. He seemed mildly offended, "You didn't take a shower before you got into bed," I accused, sitting up. Stone faced, I pointed at the bathroom, "Go take one," He propped himself up on his elbow,

"I don't take kindly to being ordered around, human," The was nothing in his face to betray any sort of amusement,

"I don't like sleeping next to someone who smells like shit," He had me pinned down the moment I paused to take another breath. My heart slammed in my ribcage, my muscles tightening beneath my skin. Eric's fangs were out and he hissed softly,

"You're getting real lax with the words that are coming out of your mouth," The necklace dangled just above my throat, brushing against me as I breathed,

"Really? I hadn't noticed," We stared at each other and I refused to look away. I knew what he was doing; asserting his dominance, being the alpha dog, or vampire rather. Trying not to flinch, I kept my breathing nice and even. I wasn't sure what he was going to do. Would he rip my throat out and drain me dry? Maybe. Vampires were volatile, unpredictable and no longer governed by human limitations. He could smell my underlying suspicion; I knew it,

"I suggest that you stop and think before you speak," I didn't reply. He slipped off me like water and snapped the bathroom door behind him. I stayed still for a while, staring up where his face had been so incredibly close to mine. It took me a moment to realize that my heart hadn't stopped racing.

How could I forget that while playing with matches, one could get burned? How could I have been so _stupid_, to let myself ramble on like that- It was a mistake an ignorant human would have made, someone who hadn't grown up with vampires sleeping under their floorboards and knowing that despite their former human lives, something else inhabited their human bodies as well. I was spoiled to have known Salome and Durand as my first vampires. Absolutely spoiled. Now I was paying for it. I paid for it with two minutes of my life; two minutes spent wondering if he was going to kill me, if that was going to be my end. How could I be attracted to something like that? To something that had no qualms with playfully keeping my sketchbook out of reach before pinning me down to remind me of my place on the food chain?

Easy. It was so easy. It was easy because he was beautiful, because he was intelligent and had a quick, dry sense of humor, when it suited him. It was easy because he recognized something in me, knew something in himself and had enough experience to last at least ten lifetimes. It was easy because no one was one-dimensional. I rolled the nugget in my mind, quietly sitting up and leaning over to turn the brightness of the lamp up and to click on my own light. My hands folded in my lap and I looked intently at my cuticles because I didn't want to look at anything else. The sound of the shower was a low, muffled drone in the background.

This wasn't an epiphany. It wasn't a light bulb flashing on or a stroke of lightening piercing the earth. Fireworks didn't explode; Holy Light didn't shine down from parted clouds. It was calm, a sensible conclusion to a string of thoughtful reasoning. That was all. Was I attracted to Eric? Absolutely. Physically? Of course. Mentally? Without a doubt.

Did I love him? I didn't think so. What was there to love? I knew nothing about him, except for that brief skin-to-skin contact that started the whole ordeal in the first place. If I had to think when I answered my own question of love, then I knew I didn't love him. If I did, my answer would have come without hesitation. A strange cocktail of relief and disappointment brewed in my chest but I disregarded it, more out of trepidation of exploring it than anything else.

I pulled the sheets to the side and swung my legs off the bed. Keeping my back to the bathroom door, I unbuttoned the dress shirt and dug around the drawers for a fresh bra and panties. I slipped those on and kicked my dirty clothes into the corner by my nightstand. Didn't he have a hamper somewhere? I crouched to look for a pair of pants in the bottom drawer when I heard the bathroom door open. My face grew hot by I didn't say anything. I quickly pulled out some navy and white striped shorts and gracelessly yanked them on. I kept my eyes focused on finding a shirt as the closest door clacked. It seemed that Eric didn't feel inclined to speak either. Choosing a heather gray, strappy tank top, I slid it over my head, glancing over at him as I adjusted the fabric.

From the corner of my eye, I could see he had flicked on the light inside and was casually browsing through the hangers,

"What, do you have a million track suits or something?" I asked, trying to keep things light in lieu of our earlier… confrontation, "Are you going to get me some matching ones?"

"I'll think about it," He replied dryly. Keeping my smile to myself, I started to make the bed, "I have more questions for you," I looked up. His arms were crossed over his chest. He wore track pants and a ribbed, sleeveless top. Both were black. I kept myself from rolling my eyes. _Typical,_

"Yeah, I still have some things I want to ask you, too," He raised an eyebrow, his wet, golden hair gleaming in the light. I schooled my features, "But you go first,"

"Thank you," Eric replied, not bothering to hid the mockery in his words. I pursed my lips,

"Why did you leave home?" It was pointless for me to question why he asked me so much and answered so little. Giving in, I shrugged and said,

"Wanted to see the rest of Louisiana… maybe more if I can still sell some sketches,"

"You mentioned that you wanted to be an art student," It wasn't a question. He remembered because, frankly, that was one of the only things a vampire could do; live and remember,

"Yeah, but mémère's broke. And I'm not going to ask Salome and Durand for the money, if they have any?"

"What about a job?" I laughed,

"I live in the bayous and was home schooled by two vampires. Where would I get a job and how would I get there?"

"Those are excuses," That one stung. I clamped my mouth shut and jerked the sheets up a little harder than was probably necessary. He leaned against the wall across from me, watching as I tucked the sheets in. I hated how he was right. If I really wanted to be an art student, to go to school, I could work. I could get a job. I could save for a car. I just didn't,

"Salome and Durand?" His curiosity pulled me back to what I was doing. I nodded,

"Yeah, they helped raise me,"

"The vampires you mentioned?"

"Yup. That's them," His pale, blue eyes lingered on my face before flickering down to a spot on my skin. I frowned and something flitted across his features,

"Did they feed on you?"

"No… Why?" He disappeared in a smear of air, reappearing at my side, unblinking. I almost clutched my chest to slow my heart from it's frantic, wild beating. He took the breath right out of me,

"Then what are those?" He had no boundaries. One long, deft finger tapped the skin just above my left breast, close to the leather cord that held my gris-gris pouch. I was glad I hadn't flinched but my ears burned at the intimacy. Glancing down, I spotted what he was pointing at,

"These?" I realized what he was thinking. They could be scars, and from the way they were spaced, scars from a vampire. I shook my head with a lopsided smile, "Nah, these are café au lait spots. I have these two," I stretched the skin a little to display them more clearly, "And another one,"

"And where is that one?" I averted my eyes. He was making fun of me,

"On my leg," I answered carefully. He didn't have to know _where_ on my leg…

"Be careful," Eric's voice drew my attention back to him. I wrinkled my brow,

"Why?"

"Because you might not always have the chance to explain what those are," He stared intently into my face and I felt some stir in my chest. We were too close, like there wasn't enough air between us, even though he didn't need to breathe. I sat down abruptly on the tidied up bed to add some distance. He continued standing. There was a pregnant pause as I looked at everything but him while Eric remained focused on me. I hated it. Finally, I spoke with the first stupid thing that came to mind,

"Eric, did you ever have a dog as a kid?" He seemed both puzzled and vaguely amused with where I was going with it,

"Why?" I couldn't ask him anymore when he'd let me leave, or how long he planned to keep me so I rolled with an analogy that might as well have come out of my ass,

"Because having a pet dog is a lot like having a pet human. You have to feed it, water it and let it, you know, _exercise_," I hinted, waggling my eyebrows,

"There are plenty of ways to exercise without leaving the bed," He replied coyly. I flushed. That hadn't really gone according to plan. Who was I kidding? Like I had a plan when I opened my big, fat mouth, "Get to the point, Rochelle," I was taken aback when he said my name. He only seemed to say it when the next thing was important,

"Can I go out to the club tonight? I'm tired of sitting in this room," I looked him squarely in the eye, gazing up at him from my seat on the edge of the bed. A playful smile ghosted his perfect lips,

"Aren't you entertained by the television?" I snorted,

"I want to draw," and I crossed my arms below my chest like a kid. Eric tilted his head to the side; a part of me was surprised that he was being so indulgent,

"You've drawn me from memory," He replied. Oh. That's right. He went through my sketchbook,

"Yeah, but those suck. Its better to have someone in front of you," I didn't know if he was offended that I thought my sketches of him were horrible. He didn't touch on the manner,

"Hm," Shocked, I stared. He had to be kidding. Just some noncommittal, one syllable sound?

"That's it?" I asked incredulously, "Just 'hm'?" He cocked an eyebrow, "No clever quip or, or anything?"

"You can go," Who did he think he was? Sure, he may be the oldest vampire I'd ever met, and probably the hottest, but I was sick and tired of him controlling me and keeping me locked up like some bird. On top of that, I wasn't allowed to question him or anything! And even if I did, it's not like he ever gave me a straightforward response. What is it with vampires and being vague?

"I mean, seriously, I thought you'd at least have some- what?"

"I said you can go," He smiled at my dumb expression.

Oh. Well. There I went, running my mouth. I was thankful he wasn't telepathic. I didn't question his sudden agreement. Can't look a gift horse in the mouth. The excitement was apparent in my step as I bounded over to my backpack, which had mysteriously ended up on his side of the bed. I hummed absently as I grabbed my sketchbook and pencil case. Eric looked amused at my upbeat mood as he stood beside me at the door, the only one I hadn't been able to open. He paused, his hand on the knob and for one fearful moment, I thought he had changed his mind. He glanced down, a smug smile quirking his lips before he twisted the handle.

He had been teasing me. I almost scowled. Jerk. The door clicked shut behind us and I hugged my belongings to my chest. The hall was abysmally gray with irritating florescent lights. Eric's long legs kept him at least a step in front of me as he guided me closer to the muted beats and pulses from the club's music. I eyed him openly, knowing that he couldn't see, and shook my head disapprovingly,

"You know, track pants and flip flops don't really scream, 'Roar, I'm a vampire! Fear me!'" He slowed to match his pace with mine,

"What was that? What don't they scream?" An ice like innocence graced his face,

"Roar! I'm a- hey!" I colored as I caught myself. Eric chuckled, "You're a dick," I wondered what had put him in such a good mood. We took a few turns before he opened a thick, heavy door. As we passed through it, I took another glance at the door. I doubted that I would've been able to open it by myself. The low lighting was a welcomed sight from the bright fluorescents. The sight of so many other people plastered a stupid grin on my face. While company with Eric could be nice, if he felt like it, being in a crowd allowed me a brief taste of freedom. I didn't bother questioning myself with how far the extent of my imprisonment lasted. I just wanted to hold on to the moment.

Eric's hand briefly touched my shoulder. I looked up at him,

"I want you to sit over there. Where I can see you," He was pointing at a part of the bar and I recognized the bartender,

"Okay. Am I allowed to talk to anyone?" I teased. His eyebrow rose,

"As long as you don't make yourself an open invitation to being eaten," Eric turned his body slightly, putting himself between me and some vampires who brushed by. Their eyes followed me intently and I looked away, "Let me know when you want to go back," and he melted away from my side. I quickly made my way to the bar, perplexed by his subtleties and words. Although it wasn't unwelcomed, his kindness was confusing. What did he want from me?

I seated myself on one of the stools, setting my sketchbook and pencil case before me. I cleared my throat and the Cajun vampire turned around,

"Fancy seeing you again," He smiled coyly,

"Rochelle," I smiled, offering my hand,

"I know," His white teeth gleamed as he took it was a firm shake. He sniffed. His eyebrows rose diminutively but I knew what he was smelled. Eric. My lips twitched, "There's been some talk. The name's Janvier, by the way," I nodded, glad that he hadn't mentioned anything,

"Nice to meet you," Releasing his hand, I leaned forward on the bar, "What do you mean by 'talk'?" Janvier shrugged, resuming his glass cleaning,

"Someone sneaked you in a few nights ago, yeah?"

"Yeah," I replied, wary of where this was going,

"She's been asking about you,"

"Oh,"

"And some idiot told her that you spoke with Eric,"

"Uh-oh," He gave a curt nod,

"Uh-oh is correct, _chéri_," Janvier must have noticed my expression because his face smoothed into a languid smile, "But relax. With Eric, nothing should happen to you,"

"Should something happen to me?" I asked carefully. His eyes widened in mock dismay,

"Of course not, _mon ami!" _Janvier cried. He set down his glass, "And just for worrying you, I'll make you a drink. On the house," He promised with a wink. I looked over my shoulder to Eric, but he was busy humiliating some human man who had come crawling to his feet, "What'll it be, _chéri?"_

"A virgin Mojito," I finally answered. He frowned,

"Not the drinking type?" But he started my drink nonetheless. I shook my head,

"Not yet anyway. I'm underage," I confessed,

"How underage?" Janvier asked suspiciously, his tawny hands paused. I laughed,

"Old enough to be in here legally," I assured him. His flirtatious smile elicited another giggle from me. It felt so nice to speak to someone who didn't seem so icy and brooding. I asked if I could draw him and he complied, flattered by my request. We spoke through the night and I found him to be the most heart-warming vampire I had met at Fangtasia. He freely spoke of his past, eager to share it after just a few questions. He had been born in New Orleans in the year 1804 to a family of six. He had grown up and followed the Voodoo practitioner Marie Laveau. My jack almost dropped out of its socket,

"You _knew_ Marie Laveau?"

"Of course!" He scoffed, making me another virgin Mojito. His wide range of expressions had already taken up a few pages in my book, "I knew her on a personal level as well; she was a friend of the family," I opened and closed my mouth several times before saying,

"My mémère says we're related to her," He raised his eyebrows,

"Really?" I nodded, "Hmmm…" He leaned in closer, mahogany eyes squinted in concentration, "I do see a small resemblance; but tell me, does your mémère practice?"

"Yeah. She made me this before I left," I fondly touched my gris-gris. Mémère had once told me that no two gris-gris were alike, as they were each individually crafted for a specific person or purpose. He smiled,

"You must be close,"

"She raised me," I replied simply, "She's a strong woman and I'm glad she took me in," I took a sip of my drink and we moved on to lighter topics,

"Rochelle?" Janvier pursed his thin lips, one eyebrow cocked up in a very _What-do-you-think-you're-doing_ manner. I turned in my barstool to see the bald vampire, who had snuck me in with her friends a few nights ago,

"Oh, hey," I wracked my brain for her name, "Sabrina," Her feline smile made me a little nervous,

"What's up?" She sat beside me, back resting against the edge of the wood,

"Not much," I responded airily, "Just… chillin',"

"Do you mind if I chill with you?" Sabrina asked. She was alone,

"Uh, sure," She didn't ask for a drink and Janvier didn't offer one. I saw why a moment later. Taking a swig of Tru Blood she held in her left hand, she eyed me,

"You look good," I wasn't sure how predatory her purr was,

"Thanks," I managed, "You too," I closed my sketchbook and zipped up my pencil case, setting them an arm's length away from me.

"Mm," Again with the noncommittal replies! What was it with vampires? Ugh, they were so annoying! Janvier was called away by a small group of tourists at the other end of the bar. Sabrina moved in for her kill,

"Rochelle," She spoke softly, her pupils dilated, "Do you trust me?" I recognized the ethereal timbre was her attempt to glamour me. I said nothing, "Rochelle," She pressed, "Can you hear me?"

"She may act stupid, but she's not deaf," Came Eric's voice. He blurred beside us. I was startled, but looked to him with relief. The slightest frown touched his features, but it didn't mar his beauty. Nothing seemed to. Sabrina straightened, "What do you want with her?"

"Nothing," She answered quickly. I mentally congratulated her for being able to recognize who had the bigger guns,

"Don't lie," His bored tone was clipped; he must have been irked. I stopped myself from biting my lip, "Were you going to drink her? That would have been incredibly idiotic of you, especially here," Sabrina rose, a vehement look spread across her face. Uh-oh. This probably wasn't going to end well; at least, not for her,

"What do you care what I do with her? She's just a human," She spat. I didn't bother with getting offended. A few curious onlookers turned their attention to us,

"Get out," Instead of hauling her ass like she should have, she took a defiant step towards him, chin jutting out in arrogance. Stupid, stupid girl. She raised her arm, as if to toss the bottle of Tru Blood at his face. But Eric was older, faster and probably expected a reaction like that. I heard him break her outstretched arm before I even saw him move. She howled in pain and the synthetic blood flew from her hand, splattering all over and me. I winced. It was still warm,

"I told you to get out," Although his face remained mild, his voice had darkened like heavy storm clouds. He tossed her away from him and she crashed back into several other vampires. The immediate crowd around us had fallen silent, but the music still played and other people still talked. Nothing seemed to stop completely for anybody,

"Pam?" The blonde appeared before us, "Would you mind-"

"Taking out the garbage? My pleasure," She deadpanned, roughly grabbing Sabrina's upper arm and dragging her through the parting crowd,

"Ever the sweetheart," I stared at their seamless exchange. They must have known each other for a very long time. A small, but adamant part of me wanted to know how long. Another vampire appeared, round faced and Asian. He began to dispel the crowd, telling them to go back to their business. Eric scooped up my thing with ease, his free hand placed at the small of my back to guide me back to the heavy door marked Employees Only. Once we were in the fluorescent hallway, I pulled the hem of my shirt away from my stomach to inspect the damage. Tru Blood was splattered all over it and I knew from experience it would be impossible to wash out,

"Aw, you ruined my shirt!" I groaned, disgruntled,

"I'll buy you a new one," He replied dryly.

---

And that is why Eric was in Forever 21 in Episode 2 of Season 2. Hooray for plot bunnies!

Reviews are Love,

The Author.


	5. Bourreau des Coeurs

Disclaimer: Mmmm, Eric Northman…

A/N: Thank you, november soul for your song suggestions! I thought Paralyzer would be appropriate considering the title of this chapter.

A/N: Thanks to WWEchica for you humorous and long reviews! Much appreciated!

A/N: Sorry for the long wait, guys! Hope the chapter is worth it.

---

Another Way to Die

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Chapter 5: Bourreau des Coeurs

---

_Well I'm not paralyzed  
But, I seem to be struck by you  
I want to make you move  
Because you're standing still  
If your body matches  
What your eyes can do  
You'll probably move right through  
Me on my way to you_

- Paralyzer, by Finger Eleven

---

The next night, I was alone in bed when I finally stirred with a headache. Blearily rubbing my eyes, I glanced around for Eric, but he was nowhere in sight. I took the opportunity to take a nice, long, hot shower. I was happy to just let the water pound on my back. It felt good to have the steaming liquid run along my scalp, soothing the dull ache that had woken me up. I absently thought of Sabrina as I scrubbed my knees and elbows before lathering my hair with Eric's shampoo. She must've thought that I would be an easy meal for her. I was a bit surprised when she hadn't automatically backed down; I thought Eric held a degree of authority that was feared and respected. But I guessed that Sabrina still carried a wild, stubborn streak from her life in the eighties.

As I thought of the previous night's events, I realized how much Eric was doing for me. He fed me, clothed me, entertained me (to a degree) and protected me from others. But what was I supposed to do? Did he expect me to repay him somehow? Or was he just stabilizing the future of his investment. I turned the water off and reached for a towel. I still didn't understand what he meant by investment. What exactly did I have that he was investing in? What was I, real estate?

Eric was waiting for me when came out of the bathroom. I swallowed the lump of nerves in my throat and glided past him to pick out some clothes to wear. I went back into the bathroom to change into the white shorts and underwear. After hanging up the towel, I opened the door. He stood in the exact same place, as perfect and unmoving as marble. I felt a little weak.

He handed me an olive printed chiffon top with a smock waist. It was accented with deep purple and a little tied keyhole on the neckline. Far prettier than the gray tank top he had indirectly stained the night before. The material felt nice in my hands and I raised an eyebrow at the neon pink Forever 21 bag it came from,

"Are you serious?" He matched my expression,

"Don't you like it?" Eric's lips quirked into an odd half smile. My heart seemed to stop,

"I do," I answered quickly, ducking my head so he couldn't see my face, "I just never expected you to walk into such a girly store," I faced away, slipping the plain t-shirt off. I could feel his eyes on my skin and something prickled down my spine, curling in the pit of my stomach,

"What can I say?" Hurriedly, I fumbled to tug the chiffon on, "There was someone in there I needed to speak with," Adjusting my hair, I turned back,

"Killed two birds with one stone?" Something twinkled in his eye. He seemed to be in a surprisingly good mood,

"Of course," Being Sunday night, the club wasn't open. Or so Eric had informed me earlier. I had lost track of what day it was,

"I should probably call my mémère," He made a noncommittal noise in his throat as he lounged on the bed, bored as he skimmed through my sketchbook. I would take that as a 'no'. I quirked my mouth to the side, contemplative about my previous thoughts. I decided to broach the subject, "You know," I began slowly, "I was taught that nothing's free in life,"

"Is that so?" His reply was distant, as if other things were taking hold of his attention. I knew it had nothing to do with my drawings. Pursing my lips, I decided to get to the point of what had been bugging me since Eric assured me that he would get me a new shirt,

"Can I at least do the laundry?" I fidgeted, "I feel bad not doing anything when you buy me food and clothes and stuff," He looked over his shoulder to where I stood, smoothly sitting up,

"So you'd like to repay my services?" He leaned forward and stared at me intently. Hesitantly, I took a step closer,

"Um, yes?" My brow puckered in confusion. Eric relaxed with a satisfied sort of smirk on his lips. It was almost like he had been waiting for this and a very bad feeling settled in my stomach. Maybe I shouldn't have worried about getting a place to sleep, food to eat and clothes to wear for free. Maybe I should've kept my big, fat, mouth shut. I shifted my weight, twisting my fingers around, "So, if you don't mind me asking, what's going to happen to Sabrina?"

"She's not important," Eric said dismissively. He stood, "Come with me," He ordered. Not waiting for me to answer, he swept me out of the bedroom, down the hall and into an office of sorts. Pam and the Asian vampire were waiting inside. There was a sofa to one side and papers scattered everywhere. Pam was quick to sweep them out of my sight,

"Well, don't you look pretty tonight," She purred,

"This is Chow," Eric indicated towards the other man, ignoring the blonde. I nodded,

"Hello," His beady, dark eyes grazed over me professionally as he waited for his boss to continue. I felt his hand at my waist and I turned to look up at him. Eric was so tall and I began to wonder if I was going to strain my neck anytime soon with all the craning I did,

"We're about to take you into the bar," He said clearly. My face furrowed,

"Uh, okay…" What the hell was going on? A sudden sense of dread coiled in my chest, constricting my heart painfully. Was I going to be their meal? Was that how I was going to repay Eric for his kindness? Would they stretch me out across the bar and bleed me? Would Janvier make blood cocktails and martinis? Pam's eyes glittered like gems, twinkling with some unknown intent. I swallowed. I guessed that sleeping with vampires was just another way to die.

Eric's hand guided me out into of the office. I paused, glancing to my right. A black door marked "Employees Only" stood closed and something cold seemed to slither through my veins. He pulled at my elbow, trying to usher me on. I stayed rooted to the spot. I remembered dreaming of screams,

"What's in there?" My voice sounded strained. He gave me a sidelong glance,

"Nothing," He replied smoothly, "Come on," Unable to tear myself away, he tugged me along. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Pam and Chow exchange diminutive looks. I tried to ignore the rush of uncertainty. I didn't expect Eric to tell me the entire on goings in his business, but the secrecy was unnerving. Eric pushed open the huge, heavy door and I stepped into the now well-lit club. The mystery seemed to disappear. It looked like a regular bar,

"Take a seat," He gestured to one of the low tables. I slid into the chair and the seat was cool against my bare thighs. Eric leaned forward, bracing himself on the back of the chair and the tabletop. Chow disappeared and Pam stood at my other side. I opened my mouth,

"Uh-"

"Just tell me what you see,"

"A bar?" I felt stupid. Really, really stupid. He chuckled,

"Wait for it," and the door where Chow ran off to unlocked. He dragged someone in by their wrist like he was holding something rather foul. His lip was curled, his nose wrinkled. He tossed them into the chair across from me. It was a man, well dressed but rather disheveled. His gray brown hair, probably once gelled, was a mess, chunks still stuck together. Head lolling to the side, he groaned. His lake blue suit had a rip at the left shoulder seam and his cuff links were scratched. Chow adjusted the man's arms to stretch out in front of him,

"Tell me what you see," Eric repeated. I suddenly understood what he wanted me to do. My head whipped around to look up at him,

"I can't control it," I hissed, "I don't know how to begin or end it; it just happens,"

"Just try," I glared but he smiled back, something sweet and encouraging. I was glad to have been sitting in a chair or my knees would've buckled beneath me. I knew it was just a manipulative ploy to get me to do what he wanted me to do. Part of me didn't care. Hesitantly, I placed my hands on top of the man's. Nothing happened. I peeked up at Eric and gave my head a little shake. A light frown skimmed his features before he leaned down, his mouth by my ear,

"Has he been with any vampires lately?"

"How am I supposed to-" The chill trembled through me and I was standing in a room, a bedroom, lavishly decorated with a modern touch. It was dim, the air slightly smoky with scent of something burning mixed with perfume. Something was huddled on the bed, steaming and I walked forward to see hateful, burning eyes staring back at me, eyes belonging to a boy not more than fourteen covered in,

"Burns," I heard myself say, but it was me speaking as Rochelle and I heard Eric from somewhere in the fog,

"On who?" I peered closer. The boy's mouth twisted into an ugly snarl and pearly white fangs gleamed in the low light. He shifted, tinkling and I realized that it was the chains; thick, silver chains,

"A vampire…" Something cried out inside of me, something heartbroken and pained, "Just a boy, Eric, he's just a boy!" My hand rose to touch his face, caressing it like a lover. He recoiled from the touch, still bearing his teeth like a wild cat. I shook my head, "We have to help him; we have to!" As I edged hysteria, something jerked me back. I blinked and I was sitting back in the chair, Eric's hand on my shoulder as Chow and Pam carried the man back out the door we had come through. I glanced uncertainly up at the blonde vampire. A mask of cool neutrality had settled on his face,

"Good job," He began to walk over to the door. I jumped up to chase after him,

"What just happened?" I demanded, slipping between him and the walls of the hallway. The fluorescent lights glared down on us, reflecting off his combed, blonde hair,

"My investment is beginning to pay off," I jogged to keep up with his long strides. We were back in the bedroom,

"What is that supposed to mean?" His lips quirked into a smirk and he didn't reply. Instead, he busied himself with his closet of magic vampire sex appeal. I stood by my chest of drawers, feeling the smooth black wood beneath my fingertips. Something tugged on my mind. Eric was hot stuff. He could snap his fingers and women everywhere would fight at the chance to even touch him but here I was, sleeping in the same bed as him. I pursed my lips. He called it "protecting my investment," but why did that involve sleeping in the same bed?

"Why do you sleep with me?" I called, my face burning like the surface of the sun. I wondered if the rush of blood was tantalizing for him. His clothes whispered against my back as he blurred behind me. Eric's smell was intoxicating, curling in my lungs like a poisonous lover. I splayed my fingers on the wood to steady myself. I wasn't prepared to feel his fingers skim my side. It felt like someone poured a bucket of ice over my head and his cool touch felt like white-hot whips of fire. I was rooted to the spot, the tingle down my spine holding me there like a puppet on taut strings,

"As I've said to you before: virgin blood is most tempting to us," His fingers trailed down my arm and I felt him lean in. The tip of his nose brushed against my neck. I tried to keep my breathing soft and even, but I knew he could smell my pulse jumping. After a moment, I spoke as calmly as possible,

"Do you want to drink me?" But when I turned, he wasn't there.

I cursed myself, feeling incredibly stupid for swooning like that. My face burned under my skin. What was I supposed to think after something like that? The intimacy we shared was uncomfortable, if only because I had never experienced something like that in my entire life. Sure, mémère and Salome and Durand and I were all close; we showered each other with affectionate hugs and kisses like rain. But with Eric…

With Eric, it was different. With Eric, there was an icy distance but a hot, consuming wildfire that devoured me. I didn't understand these feelings, this strange sensation that twisted my insides until they were torn to shreds. I didn't understand him. Hating the discomfort that slowly creeped into my chest, I took off my clothes and chose a new dress shirt from Eric's expansive closet. It was an iridescent gray, with shiny black buttons. I rolled up the sleeves and pulled back the covers. I stayed on my back for a few minutes after turning off the lights. My legs tingled; I was restless. I shifted to my stomach, curled up on my side, stretched out, twisting and turning impatiently. I stared into the dark until I saw spots and finally closed my eyes.

I knew it was cold, even though my breath didn't fog and I couldn't feel the chill of the wind. I was in a boat, crafted far differently from the one in my last dream. A dragon's head curled up from the bow, leading me North. The handle of the paddle was smooth in my dark hands and I carefully made my way through the black water, avoiding small icebergs. I could see hazy, blue mountains in the distance, the setting sun almost completely submerged in the sea,

"What are you doing here?" I looked to my left. Eric stood tall and proud, arms folded across his chest. He was brilliant and beautiful in the light. An unearthly glow tainted his skin, but I knew it was the trick of the sun and the ice. He looked more like a god than a vampire,

"What are you doing here?" He asked again. I placed the paddle beside me, staring up at him. My lips parted to answer him, but I couldn't make a single sound. Then, he was on me in his lightening speed, hands crushing me and I could finally feel the cold, his cold. I heard myself screech when he sank his teeth into my neck. Shrieking, crying, gasping, clawing,

"No, no, no!" My thrashing was useless. I was just a deer being devoured by a mountain lion, helpless against him. Why? _Why?_ Eric, why? Whywhywhywhywhywhywhy-

I awoke screaming. Eric bolted up, quickly throwing the covers off us to see if anything was attacking me. He grabbed my shoulders, shaking me,

"What is wrong with you?" He demanded in a fierce growl. I twisted away,

"Get off of me!" I crashed my head into his. Unharmed, he simply stared down at me in surprise, "Get off!" I tumbled off the bed, scooting into a corner, my hands flying up to my neck to stop the bleeding. Of course, there was no blood but in my hysterics, I couldn't bring myself to care. All I could think of was Eric holding me down, drinking me, sucking my life out of my body until I was nothing but a husk, a mannequin.

A dry sob escaped my throat. There was still so much that I didn't know, so much of him that I was vastly ignorant of and it scared the fucking shit out of me.

---

Reviews are Love,

The Author


	6. Treize Heures

Disclaimer: Because Eric Northman wakes me up every morning in all his naked glory… NOT.

A/N: Sorry for the lateness! There was a lot I had to deal with this August and September. My father passed away August 31st, so my life's been kind of hectic since then. But I'm back on track with this as a gift to my faithful readers!

---

Another Way to Die

---

_Now move I'm gonna come dry  
I dropped my musings out of sight  
I drank until the waters dried  
It's all cute 'til someone dies_

_Shoot my name up every vein  
You can't get hurt, you can't complain  
No feet, no hands, no tail, no lies  
He's got youth on his side_

- Kiss Kiss, by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs

---

Chapter 6: Treize Heures

---

I remembered falling asleep in the corner, sobbing until my tears ran as dry as a river in drought and my shoulder shook. I awoke in bed, eyes puffy and my face sore. There were two aspirin on my table and a glass of water. Sitting up, I stared at them. Eric must have left it there. I hesitated; debating if taking the medication was a good idea. My very skin ached and my head was beginning to throb, so I fucked propriety and tossed them back. Just because our different frequencies scared the shit out of me, didn't mean that I couldn't take his moments of chivalry. I decided not to dwell on it; it would only increase my headache.

I looked at the clock. It was one in the morning. I decided to go see Janvier. It was better than sitting around in the stifling room, waiting for Eric to come back. If he came back. No… He would. He was too above me to be petty and avoid me. He was a vampire; he could do whatever the fuck he wanted. Somehow, that thought made me mad. I angrily tossed my sheets aside and practically ripped my clothes off before dressing in an off shoulder, wine colored shirt and black, pinstripe shorts. If he got to do what he wanted, then I would do what I wanted. Fuck his rules. I made sure to slam the bathroom door behind me when I was done and slammed the door to the hallway for good measure.

Stomping down the hall, and probably resembling an overgrown, sullen snot of a kid, I found the door into the bar. My hand hovered over the steel handle when I heard a scritch-scratching. I was close to the office I was taken to the night before and the black door marked 'Employees Only' stood stark against the white wall. I chewed on my lower lip, feeling my curiosity uncurl inside me, interested in the noise. The bar door swung open, knocking me flat on my ass. Janvier towered over me, shocked,

"Rochelle! Mon ami, are you alright?" He swiftly pulled me to my feet, brushing me off and readjusting my clothes,

"Yeah," I breathed, "I'm fine,"

"You'd think we wouldn't be busy on a Monday night, yeah?" He shook his head, annoyed, "But of course, people still flock here like flies on a corpse," His lip curled in disgust before his demeanor changed like mercury, "But no matter, chéri!" Janvier's smile lit up his hazelnut skin like a hundred watt bulb, "My time is better spent with mon petite!" I smiled and followed him back to the bar,

"What were you planning on doing before slamming me in the face with the door?" I asked conversationally as I took my regular seat,

"Ah, just wanted to take a break," He replied smoothly, shrugging as he busied his hands cleaning a glass. What was it with bartenders constantly wiping cups? Was it a nervous tick they all developed? "So, tell me," Janvier began. I stiffened, hoping he wouldn't broach the subject of my hysterical fit from the night before. How was I supposed to know what Eric told his employees?

"Yes?" My mouth was dry,

"What are you doing out of the room without Eric?" He frowned, hopefully more so out of curiosity than disapproval. I almost sighed in relief,

"I didn't know he had me on a choke chain," I quipped sardonically. Janvier gave me a bemused smile,

"Care for a drink?" He offered in his placating way,

"Sure," I admitted, "Same thing as last time," He poured away, starting easy conversation to move the night along. There was another bartender working, so Janvier focused his attention on me. I didn't see Eric. Pam passed us a few times, slipping in a few words but we were left to our own devices. We broached the subject of vampire integration,

"You take all this very well," Janvier complimented me, "Has glamoring kept your fears at bay?"

"First of all, glamoring doesn't work. Second of all, fear of what?" My brow furrowed,

"Vampires. You must admit, we are rather terrifying," And he teasingly produced his fangs,

"My mémère still puts a broomstick in her doorway to keep the witches away at night," I shrugged with a lopsided smile, "So vampires and shapeshifters and whatever else is out there don't scare me. It's the individuals who can scare me," I polished off my third virgin Mojito,

"So, you'd leave a child alone with a vampire?" He asked curiously, instantly making me another,

"My mémère left me alone with vampires," I pointed out, "Vampires were some of her best friends,"

"Well, most people wouldn't agree," Janvier replied, a secretive smile on his face. I sniffed,

"Well, most people are jackasses," Shifting in my stool, I felt that cursed, dying need to pee. I had a bunch of drinks, so this wasn't surprising, but it was annoying, "I'm going to go the bathroom," I excused myself and slipped to the ground, "And I should probably let you get back to work,"

"Au revoir, chéri!" He waved as I tripped to the bathrooms. After finishing my business, I stood by the sink, washing my hands. My night's rebellious activity was going rather well. I went into the bar; I hung out with Janvier for a while and had several drinks I didn't pay for. A little serpent's voice in my ear told me that the one thing that would make this night better would be the cool air on my face. I turned the faucet off. Sounded like a plan. Why should Eric care? And why should I care if Eric cared?

He didn't _own _me. His name was not tattooed to my ass. I could do whatever the hell I wanted. Fuck him and his goddamn need to protect his "investment". My head held high, I marched out of the bathroom and out the backdoor. A tantalizing and excited chill nipped at my spine. The club was a dull, muted roar and the sound of traffic was a modern symphony of aggression and frustration. It was exhilarating. I slipped out of the alley, throwing a glance over at the line leading into Fangtasia. A slow grin spread across my face as I practically skipped down the street.

My glee lasted about five minutes. A patrol car passed me before making a U-turn and slowing down to my speed. Bile building in my throat, I stopped. He rolled the window down to peer up at me. He was a white guy, skin more pink than olive with trailer trash side burns,

"Did you just walk out of that vampire bar?" The officer shined his flashlight in my eyes. I winced,

"Uh, yeah?" He peered at me with his small eyes. Something heavy dropped down into the pit of my stomach,

"Stay right there," I stood there dumbly as he got out of his patrol car, pulling up the back of his pants with one hand, "What are those?" He pointed at my skin, "Right there?" What was he- _oh,_

"These?" I repeated stupidly. Eric's voice drifted into my brain. _You might not always have the chance to explain what those are._ Shit, "They're birthmarks!" He raised a disbelieving, bushy brow,

"Uh-_huh,"_ Well, telling the truth certainly wasn't the right choice, "Have you been bitten tonight, young lady?" Have I been _what?_

"No!" I protested, but the skepticism was like a steel wall,

"Lemme see your ID," He snapped impatiently, his fat, fleshy palm held open to me,

"I don't have one," The officer stared at me for a few minutes,

"Excuse me?" An exasperated, disgruntled noise escaped my throat,

"I said, '_I don't got no ID,'"_ I strained. He sniffed, readjusting his pants. Why was my life suddenly a really bad episode of _Cops?_

"All right. Get in the back. I'm taking you down to the station,"

"What?" My jaw could've hit the ground and gone straight through the center of the Earth to China, "Why?"

"Because you just walked out of that vampire bar with these," he waved the flashlight around my birthmarks, "And there's probably more and you're _clearly_ underage," His logic was flawless, "Get in the back of the car," I opened and closed my mouth a few times,

"You've gotta be kidding me,"

"It's _illegal_ to allow a vampire to feed on you," He informed me. What was this, some public announcement video?

"Since _when_?" He ignored me,

"Get in the car. We're going to go to the station and we're going to call your parents,"

"I don't _have_ parents,"

"So you're a hooker. Jesus, what is the world coming to?" How did he become an officer of the law? _How?_

"What the fuck! Clearly, _clearly,_ if a girl doesn't have any parents, she's a hooker," But I got in the car nonetheless. I didn't have much of a choice. The officer calling me in only punctuated the otherwise silent ride to the station. I tuned him out to stare out the window.

I was royally fucked. Eric was going to have my head mounted on the wall at Fangtasia as a warning to future investments: If you don't listen and obey the rules, you get fucked. Big time. Rolling into the parking lot of the station, I wondered if he would even realize that I was gone. Would he even be able to find me? I waited for the cop to let me out of the car and let him place a hand on my shoulder to lead me inside. It was quiet. A receptionist with strawberry blonde curls piled on top of her head gave a wide, toothy smile,

"Evening, Booker,"

"Evening, Karen," He grumped back,

"Another fangbanger?" She asked kindly, totally and completely ignoring me,

"Looks like it," and I was pushed to another part of the blindingly white hallway. He sat me down to begin the paper work,

"Name?" He grumbled expectantly. Hesitation and fumbling wasn't going to add to my credibility so I resigned to answering truthfully,

"Rochelle Laveau," He snorted,

"What's your _real_ name?" Was he fucking _kidding_ me?! I just about screamed in his face,

"That is my real name!"

"Maybe some time in the cell will make you more honest," This had to be the worst night in the history of things gone wrong. How could I possibly explain this to Eric? How could he possible save me? My doubts settled in on my chest like a sack of bricks. I felt heavy with the sudden sense that Eric might not even care enough to come get me. I stopped short,

"I want my phone call," He turned to look back at me,

"What?" He demanded, a scowl fixated on his mug,

"I said I want my phone call!" I repeated snappishly, hugging my body. He glared before grabbing my upper arm, "I can walk by myself, you know!" If there weren't witnesses, I'm sure he would've shot me. He stamped his way to a pay phone,

"You have ten minutes," I twisted towards him,

"Can I have some privacy?"

"No," He sneered. I pulled a quarter out of my pocket and slipped it into the machine. I dialed 411 and waited as the phone rang. The cop stepped to the side to speak with another passing officer, sending me a few nasty looks. The operator picked up,

"City and state," She droned, clearly tired and bored at four in the morning. I shifted so that he couldn't see what I was saying. Not that he was smart enough to try and lip read,

"Shreveport, Louisiana. I'm looking for Fangtasia,"

"Please hold," There was a brief silence before the ringing resumed. After about fifteen seconds, someone picked up,

"You've reached Fangtasia, this is Janvier speaking," Relief flooded through my veins,

"Janvier, it's Rochelle,"

"What are you calling for?" He asked curiously, "Aren't you in Eric's-"

"I'm at the sheriff's office. This is my one free phone call,"

"I'll tell Eric," Smart boy, that Janvier. We hung up without saying goodbye. I had to trust him to bail me out of this hot mess. Obediently, I followed Officer Booker to the holding cell and began my wait lying down on a bunk, staring up at the ceiling. I counted the tiles, missed two and went back to recount them. I stopped trying after a few more minutes. It was hard to concentrate with my nerves writhing around in my stomach like a bunch of snakes. What was Eric going to say when he found out what happened? He told me not to leave the club. He _told_ me. Guilt and regret clocked me like a baseball bat. I should've listened. I shouldn't have been so selfish. I should've told him what I dreamt about. I should've told him so that we could have talked about it, so that- so that- I….

So that I what? I didn't know what I wanted from Eric. Or did I?

"I'm here to collect my daughter," Came a strong, Southern drawl. I whipped my head around. Eric stood by the desk, thumbs tucked neatly into his pockets. He couldn't be serious. I snapped to attention and quit my gaping when the officer turned to me incredulously,

"I thought you said you didn't _have_ parents," In my one shining moment, I burst into the biggest alligator tears I bet anyone had ever witnessed,

"Oh, _daddy!"_ I sobbed, burying my face in my hands, "It's been so long!"

"I'm sorry, baby," Eric had gone right up to the bars, smooth hands reaching through to grasp my shoulders, "I got here as soon as Janus called," The officer let out an undignified, confused,

"What?" The blonde vampire turned his shining features to the other man,

"You see, officer," He began, his voice sounding a lot like some heartbroken country singer, "I was just passin' through town like a tumbleweed when I heard my baby girl was in trouble. I haven't seen my sugar pie in ten years!" I swear to God, that motherfucker's eyes got all teary, "So please, officer," and he took on softer, far more coaxing sound. The atrocious Southern accent was dropped, thankfully, but I knew what was happening, "Won't you let my baby go?" The man blinked a few times before slowly walking over,

"Of course, sir," The room grew cold, almost as icy as my seascape dream where Eric devoured me. Remembering his teeth in my flesh, I flinched away from his touch. If he noticed, he didn't respond. The officer unlocked my cell door and I scrambled up and out, slipping past Eric to stand by myself. I heard him murmur,

"Now, none of this ever happened,"

"Yes, sir," And I was abruptly whisked away. I didn't realize that I was holding onto Eric until the air screamed past us. My breath caught in my chest, the pressure easing down on me before we stopped and I forgot that I was suffocating,

"How did you get there so fast?" I gasped, tumbling out of his arms onto the pavement. He stared down at me,

"I flew," I wasn't sure if that was sarcasm I detected in his voice. I got up, brushing myself off and heading towards the door. The line was nonexistent and more people seemed to be leaving, "Not even a 'thank you'? What happened to your manners, Rochelle?" I stiffened,

"Thank you," I couldn't bring myself to look at him,

"What happened?"

"Nothing," The officer's grip on my arm was nothing like Eric's. I tried to shake him off, "Lemme go,"

"What happened?" He repeated, an edge to his voice I'd never heard before. The violence in my dream came back with a vengeance. I swallowed, freezing up on the spot,

"I-" I could feel my lips trembling. Was I truly this terrified of him? "I-" No. I shouldn't be. He's a vampire. I'm a human. He's the predator, I'm the prey. That doesn't mean I _have_ to be scared. I squared my shoulders a little, "I got arrested for walking out of Fangtasia," I replied shortly, "Happy?"

"No," He frowned, dragging me into the empty club. I sighed,

"He didn't believe me when I gave my name, I don't have an ID and you glamoured him. I don't really see the problem here," Eric looked down at me for a moment,

"Go to your room," My eyes probably bugged out of my head,

"_What?!" _He released me, elegantly folding his arms across his chest,

"You heard me,"

"What am I, twelve?" I demanded,

"If you insist on acting like a teacup human, I will insist on treating you like one," He retorted coolly. I opened and closed my mouth like a fish. He had to be kidding,

"Fine," so I turned and tramped to the bedroom. I was back to feeling how I did at the start of the night. Angry, frustrated and confused. I threw my clothes around more forcefully than necessary after kicking the door shut. I stared at his dress shirt I wore to sleep before tossing it on the ground. I'd rather sleep in my underwear. I debated on pushing a dresser in front of the door but I didn't want to provoke him into actually eating me. I compensated by taking up the entire bed.

When my head hit the pillow, I fell asleep to screams.

---

WHEW! Here you go folks!

Reviews are Love,

The Author.


	7. Ventre de la Bête

Disclaimer: Did you hear the Rachel, the chick who plays the Queen of Louisiana, was hooking up with Alexander? Aw, hell naw bitches! That just goes to show my complete lack of ownership. Damn…

A/N: Someone asked how Rochelle's name was pronounced. It's _ro-SHELL_; at least that's how Eric pronounces it. To the Southerners, it's _rah-SHELL._

A/N: Just a reminder that this _is_ a fanfiction.

A/N: On that note, this ties in with two other fanfictions. One, which is still in production, called _Only By the Night_ features Godric and an OC and the other is a current work-in-progress.

A/N: angel-unknown, you're a doll. Thanks for getting me back on track. Here's a nice long chapter for all of you.

Warning: Sexuality. But hopefully not how you think!

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Another Way to Die

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_I heard she broke your heart again  
So now you're gonna come and see me  
We're back to the start again  
When's she gonna set me free  
I've been there time and time again  
The girl's no good for me and you  
She hurts me too_

- Heartbreaker, by Metronomy

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Chapter 7: Ventre de la Bête

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I stirred, my eyes blearily parting to the bedroom lights. The bathroom door was open ajar, steam trickling up towards the ceiling. Eric's place beside me carried lingering warmth; he must have just gotten up. Vigorously rubbing the sleep from the corners of my eyes, I stretched out arching my spine like a cat. The shower stopped and a sopping wet, blonde vampire stepped out of the bathroom. He threw me a sidelong, casual look as he towel dried his hair. I tried to keep my gaze on his face,

"Good evening," His voice was pleasant and I cautiously croaked a,

"Good evening," in reply. Eric was so confusing with his feelings. Sometimes I wondered if he flipped a coin every time he woke up to decide on his nightly facial expression.

He made his way to the walk in closet and I couldn't stop myself for reaching out for my sketchbook. I was on total autopilot, gripping my pencil as I skipped to a fresh page. He stood with his back to me, using the small towel in one hand and shifting through his shirts with the other. His muscles were coiled beneath his beautiful alabaster skin like steel cords. I began sketching, allowing my mind to go wonderfully blank. It was easy to let my pencil trace him; his form was disgustingly familiar to me. A surge of humiliation battered against my brain and I knew, somehow, that he was well aware of what I was doing.

I couldn't stop myself.

Lying on my stomach, tangled in the sheets, long, swift strokes of black outlined the shape of his back and the slope of his neck and shoulders. Whatever Norse gods breathed life into him really outdid themselves. He knew what I was doing; I could feel it in my bones. Eric slowed his movements, taking his sweet-ass time to brush aside a few droplets of water and use the towel to soak up the remaining moisture in his hair. I tried to recreate the affect, but my sketching did him no justice; it's hard to draw diamond skin.

I hated that he was mocking me. Hated it with a deep-seated, passive fury. There was nothing I could do about it. Part of me wondered why I was so angry. I didn't have time to dwell on it as the door burst open, slamming against the wall and shaking the bed. A beautifully disgruntled Pam stood in the doorway, arms cross, completely menacing in her pink skirt and matching suit jacket. She opened her red lips and a tirade of fluid sounds emptied into the air. Her hand shot out and gestured with sharp, wild movements. After a few moments and replies in the same tongue from a naked Eric, she stormed off, the door sweeping shut behind her,

"Wow," I set my sketchbook aside as he finally began to get dressed. He answered with a noncommittal noise, "What's she angry about?" He shrugged,

"A pair of her pumps was ruined," Shit, I would've been angry, too,

"And?"

"And she wants the night off to go buy ones," Eric picked up a pair of black, patent leather dress shoes and sat on the edge of the bed to lace them. I scooted back, despite the room already between us. Absently, I questioned when I would ever be comfortable with him.

Was he still angry with me? I couldn't tell; his face was smooth marble, as expressionless as Michelangelo's _David_. There was a sting when I remembered his words from the night before. Treating me like a child… I huffed under my breath. The prick. Who does he think he is? But my mémère and Salome and Durand… They were the only people I had ever really known. I was the youngest and they indulged in me. It seemed like a long forgotten, sleepy fantasy. I ached for them. I wanted mémère's strong hands braiding my hair, Salome's stories and Durand's deep, infectious laughter.

Maybe I was a child,

"Do you always leave things unfinished?" His voice quipped in my ear. I jumped. I didn't realize he was leaning over me until he spoke. I stared down at my sketchpad. He was right; I hadn't finished the picture of him. Part of me didn't want to. Eric loomed over me, his arms caging me on either side with his face close to mine. Briefly, I wondered if he could smell my blood dancing beneath my skin. I figured he could,

"No," I began slowly, "It's just hard when the subject won't sit still,"

"I can sit very still," It sounded like a flirtatious challenge. I felt heat creep into my neck and face and I ducked out from under him,

"Yeah," Averting my eyes, I slid out of bed and closed the bathroom door behind me. I pressed my ear against the wood and listened as Eric left. With a sigh, I turned the faucets on and began filling the tub. I hunted for some kind of bubble bath but why I would expect Eric to have any was beyond me. My searching came up fruitless, so I settled for using the last of his shampoo all for myself. I squirted some into the running water and watched it foam into white, billowy stacks. I stripped down and sank into the water. My skin prickled from the heat, but it felt nice so I turned off the faucet, leaned back and closed my eyes. After a few moments, I stretched out, the tension in my shoulders knotting and coiling. My hand brushed a candle jar I hadn't seen and I yelped, grabbing it before it fell off the edge of the tub.

That familiar slither ran down my spine and my body pulsed and I was still in the bath, water sloshing as Eric kissed my neck, holding himself up on the rim of the tub, burying himself up to the hilt inside me, hitting that sweet spot and I cried out, one pale, slender hand holding on to him for dear life, the other holding the lighted candle and I dribbled hot wax on his back, grinning when he tossed his head back, bearing his fangs-

I dropped the candle, shocked. My face was probably scarlet, my heart beating as fast as a trapped rabbit. I stared at the broken jar, pieces of crumbing vanilla wax contrasting against the dark tile. I had never, _ever_ had a vision like… like _that_ before. Nothing that… erotic. My body felt too hot and I quickly pulled the plug, jumping out of the tub and getting into the frameless shower. I turned on the cold water and gave a little shriek when it hit my skin. I hugged myself, sinking to the ground in a crouch as the icy water pounded into my scalp and shoulders.

_It wasn't me, it wasn't me, it wasn't me, itwasn'tme, -_

I shook my head furiously, teeth chattering. I stood and allowed myself to adjust the temperature to be a bit more tolerable. I stared into the glass as I lathered my hair. This was the first not important vision I had ever had. When I touched people, I saw parts of their lives, which made sense. Objects were… trickier. With objects I saw important fragments, things that happened that meant something. When I was younger, I had held Salome's Star of David and saw death and sickness and people worked down to their skeletons in camps. I couldn't sleep alone for six months after that.

But I never saw meaningless things. I never saw someone go to a grocery store, or eat dinner, or watch TV. Everything had a meaning and if this vision of Eric's… escapade, was the first of many, then how was I supposed to filter? I couldn't control my power to begin with- but if I touched a broom from Wal-mart and saw how it became a broom, then what else was there? Would I soon touch anything and be attacked with an onslaught of visions?

I rinsed off and got out of the shower before the panic could take control. Drying off, I focused on how I was going to interact with Eric. If I saw him, I would only be able to think of his lips on my neck, taking me hard and deep and-

I hit my palm to my forehead, hard. Shaking my head, I wrapped the towel around me and walked back into the bedroom. All I would be able to think of was the vision. I had to get out, just for a little bit. As I browsed the drawers for clothes, an idea came to mind. Finding the chiffon top Eric gave me, I pulled that on along with some white shorts and ripped the brush through my hair. Putting down my hair based torture device, my gris-gris caught my eye. I stared at the leather pouch for a moment. I hadn't worn it recently; I didn't feel the need to. For some inexplicable, troubling reason, I felt… safe. Although Eric often loomed over me with his dominance, he also protected me. He broke me out of jail and saved me from Sabrina. I could trust him, to an extent.

Tolerating my semi-presentable state, I marched off with my mission; pleasantly surprised to see the door was unlocked. I wandered down the hall until I reached the familiar, heavy door. A heavy beat pulsed behind the steel and with a grin, I pulled it open. I squinted in the subtle darkness, lights swaying and flashing from the ceiling as bodies twisted and hands rose in ecstasy. I squeaked when I felt a hand on the small of my back quickly traveling south,

"Hey there, sweet cheeks," He breathed in my ear. I gagged,

"Not tonight, cheesecake," I muttered, slamming my heel on his instep. I ducked away, too intent on my journey to pay attention to his swearing. I happily took my seat at the bar and Janvier waved from his spot further down,

"Be with you in a moment, _chéri!"_

"Take your time!" I called back. Swinging my feet, I traced shapes in the waxed counter top until the space beside me smeared,

"I see you're out of the cage, birdie," She purred, sweeping her luxurious blonde waves over her shoulder. Pam had changed out of her pink skirt suit and into a dark, wine red corset and matte, black leather pants. Rubies encircled her throat like a bloody gash,

"Evenin', Pam," I smiled, a little nervous,

"I heard what happened last night," Her eyebrow arched and I briefly decided that if I ever got a cat, I'd name her Pam. My reply was a noncommittal noise. God, was I taking after Eric. But she didn't press it any further and eyed a foxy, young brunette who sauntered by. Janvier blurred before us,

"The usual, _ma douce?" _I nodded,

"How are you tonight, Janvier?" He grabbed a fistful of mint and began crushing it in a marble mortar with a pestle,

"Very well, _merci._ And yourself?" Janvier paused to give a few human customers their Bud Lights,

"I'm all right," I kicked my feet like a child. For some bizarre, and slightly disturbing, reason, I felt like a kid in an ice cream and soda pop shop back in the fifties. Janvier was certainly cheerful enough to remind me of one,

"Have you called your mémère yet?" He asked, mockingly stern and parental,

"No," I replied guiltily, "I'll ring her up in the morning, when she's awake," Janvier granted me an approving smile and handed me the virgin Mojito,

"Did she teach you any voodoo?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively,

"She taught me voodoo and hoodoo and things I haven't even tried," I grinned,

"Is she in practice?" He briefly took an order from another woman and popped a bottle of Tru Blood in the microwave behind him,

"Of course! People have traveled all over to ask her for readings and spells,"

"Is she from your mother or your father's side?"

"My maman. I never knew my father," The microwave dinged and he served the vampire her drink. Vaguely, I found myself surprised that she didn't just feed off of some human,

"Only child?" Nodding, I sipped my drink, "My, have families grown small!"

"I know!" I exclaimed, "Marie Laveau had fifteen children with Christoph Glapion. Can you believe it? Fifteen!"

"I can barely deal with one human child," Pam sneered,

"Fourteen," Janvier corrected absently,

"What?" My brow knitted, confused,

"Marie Laveau had fourteen children with Glapion," Quickly refilling a customer's glass, he slid it down the bar before starting up a martini. I frowned, leaning forward on my elbows to deliberate our crossed facts.

"But my mémère always said she had fifteen," He flashed me a toothy grin,

"Ah, but your mémère wasn't even born when I was still human," I pursed my lips. This could get interesting… Janvier _did_ say that Marie Laveau was a friend of his family. Did she do readings for him? Did he ever see one of her ceremonies? Did someone in his family ever buy a gris-gris from her? Did _he_ ever buy a gris-gris from her? Did he still have it, or did it decay after less than two hundred years?

"Then how do you know? Did she tell you?" I asked eagerly. He scoffed,

"No_, ma petit imbécile idiot,_ I was there!" Janvier waved his hand dramatically, dropping an olive or two into the glass, "She had fourteen children with _Glapion_ and one with _me_; my sweet Heloise," I almost choked. Mémère had mentioned that name before,

"Heloise? How many girls in the Laveau family have been named Heloise?" He shrugged,

"Well, my Heloise, and perhaps another. It was in the talks of her granddaughter's granddaughter," My mouth opened and closed like a fat fish drawn out onto dry land,

"Keep your mouth like that and you'll catch flies," Pam quipped but I disregarded her, whispering to Janvier,

"Was her name Magdalene?" His eyebrows rose in surprise,

"_Oui_," I clapped a hand over my mouth to stop a shriek,

"That's my mémère's mother!"

"_Vraiment?"_ Janvier's eyes lit up like the Fourth of July

"_Vraiment!" _I exclaimed, "Then, that makes you my great-great-great-"

"Great-great-" He added,

"_Pépère_!"

"_Oui, bon petite_!" We stared at each other for a moment,

"Oh, puke," Pam muttered in the background. I ignored her,

"Now, that's just hinky…" He laughed,

"There are people who discover their ancestors almost every night now that we're out of the coffin! Is it really so strange to you, _ma beaute douce?_"

"No… but can I just keep calling you Janvier? Pépère would be a little awkward…" Janvier's smile was a far cry from the disappointment I anticipated,

"Whatever you wish, _ma ami. _I look a little young to seem like your pépère, no?" And he blurred to my side and gave me a strong hug, "_Ma fille douce,"_ It felt so _good_ to find more family. I mean, of course I loved mémère and Salome and Durand, but to know that there had been someone else out there and by sheer, fucking _luck_ we had found each other? It made my heart ache with happiness,

"Janvier, I'm sorry to interrupt your little family reunion, but you've got customers waiting for you," Pam snapped. He simply smiled, affectionately patted my head and went back to work. I was feeling too good to be annoyed with her. Giggling, I sipped more of my drink but from the corner of my eyes, I could see she seemed to feel a little left out,

"Eric says you want to buy some new pumps?" I could be attentive when I wanted to be. A look of half surprise crossed her face,

"He ruined a pair having me trek through the mud," Offering a exploratory smile, I said,

"That really sucks," I sympathized. Ruining a nice pair of shoes was a terrible waste. She glanced at me, judging just how sincere I was being,

"Yeah," She finally said, "It does,"

"Can I," I began hesitantly, "Come with you tonight when you buy new ones?" Pam studied my face,

"Ask Eric," I sat up straight and glanced around. I didn't see him in the crowd, or on his throne acting high and mighty as usual,

"Where is he?"

"Probably in his office," And she disappeared from my side to seduce the foxy brunette. I finished up my drink and waved goodbye to Janvier, making my way back from the door I came in from. With some difficulty, I avoided several grinding couples and pushed the heavy door open. The noise instantly died down behind me as it closed. I breathed a sigh of relief. I liked Fangtasia, really I did, but the peace and quiet was nicer. You can take a girl outta the bayou but you can't take the bayou outta the girl.

I paused outside of Eric's office. What exactly was I supposed to say? No. I knew what I was supposed to say. I just didn't know _how_ to say it. Raising my hand to rap my knuckles I- _hot, possessive lips on my neck and the angry thrust of hips-_ my face burned and I quickly lowered my hand, wiping my damp palms on my shorts. I swallowed, licking my dry lips- _hard, harder, deep, that spot, over and over and-_ I stepped back, clapping my hands over my mouth, squeezing my eyes shut and spazing. No, no, no, no! No! Nu-uh, not happening! Not. Happening. I inhaled deeply through my nose, allowed a shudder and straightened, approaching the door. I knocked,

"Enter," I peeked out from behind the door before sliding in. He was seated in a plush black leather chair, reading a newspaper. The headline screamed _FELLOWSHIP OF THE SUN STARTS ANTI-VAMPIRE CAMP?? _It made me wince,

"Hi," I greeted awkwardly. Eric raised an eyebrow,

"Hello, Rochelle," I decided to dive right in,

"So, I'm thinking that I should go with Pam when she goes out to buy new pumps," I rushed, clasping my hands behind my back and rocking on my feet,

"And why is that?" His expression smoothed over, going back to some papers on his desk. He clicked open a pen and began signing away. My ears burned. So he said that he'd treat me like a teacup human as long as I decided to act like one, but I thought we were over that at the beginning of the evening! I clenched my teeth, breathing in deeply. _Take the high road, Rochelle. Take the high road,_

"Well, I _do_ need club appropriate attire," I stressed, shifting on my feet and staying as pleasant as possible,

"Uh-_huh_," His blue eyes flickered up at me and I was berated with a series of images, his mouth on my throat, the sheer dominance and lust in his gaze-

"Seriously, Eric," I cleared my throat, a little too loudly, "Cute, bright t-shirts and shorts kinda make me a giant target in a gothy vampire bar, don't they? I mean, some guy grabbed my ass earlier,"

"The scent of your virgin blood makes you a giant target," He replied casually. I balked,

"All right, now _that's_ a little creepy," Eric cocked an eyebrow,

"I thought you were aware of this," I bunched the hem of my shorts in my fists,

"I am. But the way you just said it makes you sound like a pedophile," We stared at each other for a few minutes. I tried my best not to look away,

"Very well," He finally said, "You can go shopping with Pam," I grinned, "I'm sure she'll be _thrilled_," He deadpanned, reopening his newspaper. I didn't mind the sarcasm. As long as he didn't suspect that I was trying to avoid him, things would be cool as a cucumber. But considering that Eric had over a thousand years on me, my hopes were set probably a bit too high. I stopped right at the door and turned back to look at him,

"Thanks," I jerked open the door so I wouldn't see the expression on his face, if he even had one. Pam was waiting for me outside,

"Come on. Let's go," She ordered, hips swaying as she sashayed past me. Her clothes had changed once again, into a velvet, plum colored tracksuit and her waves straightened to fall down her back. A designer purse was tucked under her arm,

"How did you-?" I jogged to keep up with her,

"Eric is my maker," She shot me a sidelong glance, as if inviting me to some deeply personal secret. Which, I suppose, it was. I had never heard Salome or Durand speak much of their makers, "I know," I followed her out a side hallway and into the cool night. It was late, but not so late,

"What time is it?" We fell into an even stride as Pam removed a set of keys from her bag,

"Ten thirty seven,"

"Are places still open this late?" I inquired. It's not like we were in Vegas or anything. Were there twenty-four hour shopping malls?

"Of course there are places still open," She scoffed, unlocking the sleek little sports car. I recognized the blue and white symbol. It was a BMW,

"Will we be staying in Shreveport?"

"There's a boutique in Bossier City that has the pumps I ordered," I buckled my seat belt,

"Couldn't you have just gotten them shipped to a store in Shreveport?" She stared at me with the keys in the ignition, perfectly frozen,

"They're custom Italian leather pumps," Pam said, as if I were the biggest idiot in the world. I liked shoes and all, but not that much,

"Okay, okay," I backed down. She sighed and shook her head before starting the car. We mainly drove in silence and I stared out the window, watching lights whizz by as we passed buildings and cars,

"I thought we were headed to Bossier City," Her finely plucked eyebrow arched up like a cat's back,

"You need some clothes, don't you?" And I realized it was an invitation, of sorts, to some quality girl time. I didn't know if I should've been excited or terrified. I settled on a nice cocktail of both. We pulled into the parking lot of an expansive mall and I'll admit to being surprised at how busy it seemed. I supposed I'd never get used to vampires being out in the open when I had spent much of my eighteen years hiding mine under my bed. The car beeped behind us and I let Pam take the lead. She stopped short and I nearly collided into her. Spinning, she surveyed me head to toe,

"Uh-" My mouth didn't seem to want to work with my brain. I wanted to feel embarrassed, but something about Pam told me that it didn't matter either way. I'd always feel like an idiot around her,

"What are you? Five, five? Five, six?"

"Five six,"

"Hm," and she turned sharply on her heel. I hurried to catch up with her. Under Pam's military-esque direction and guidance, we rang up Eric's credit card; I found it was oddly therapeutic and satisfying. I had gotten several skintight pants and skirts, a few edgy tops and a pair of knee high leather boots, upon my vampire chaperone's insistence,

"Boots," She began, "Are your best friend," It was my turn to quirk an inquisitive eyebrow, "They help you stand up to all the bullshit and rise above it," Wow. That had to be the single most intelligent thing I had ever heard from a woman while shopping for shoes. I was genuinely impressed.

We stopped off in the food court for a break. The Starbucks advertised Tru Blood, which I pointed out to Pam. Her upper lip curled in disgust, but she was still beautiful,

"That's disgusting,"

"You don't drink Tru Blood?"

"Does it sound like I do?" But I had come to recognize that she was being far more playful than intentionally hurtful,

"No," I agreed, "It doesn't," Something from my memory popped into my immediate attention span, "Does Eric drink Tru Blood?"

"Are you kidding? He hates the shit,"

"I saw him drink it once,"

"When?" She asked, eyes narrowed suspiciously,

"When I first started staying with you guys,"

"Oh, that," A smirk graced her pink lips, "Eric lost a bet with Chow,"

"About what?"

"None of your business," A flashy neon sign caught my eye,

"Oh. My. God. Corn dogs," I almost dropped my bags from sheer excitement. A part of me felt rather childish, something I'm sure Eric would've pointed out had I been with him. But I was with Pam and she just gave me a blank stare,

"What?" I balked. How could she not know the delicious, deep fried, golden wonderfulness that are corndogs?

"Corn dogs. They're amazing. I haven't had one since the county faire when I was seven," I rushed over to the stand, Pam languidly trailing behind me, "Please?" I begged, turning to her, "Please, oh, please, oh, please, oh, please, oh-"

"If you stop that incessant noise," She snapped. I smiled, making a zipping motion across my sealed lips. I swore I caught a hint of a smile. So, I got my golden corndog and extra large, green lemonade to go with it. Pam watched me with some amusement as I devoured the greasy thing, slurping down the icy drink to wash away the oily slickness in my mouth. Bags in one hand and tall, cool drink in the other, we left, rushing to get to Pam's fancy boutique before it closed. I tossed the empty cup into a nearby trashcan,

"Thanks for letting me tag along, Pam," She nodded,

"You drank that pretty fast. You might make a good vampire," Although it was an offhand comment, my heart gave a jolt. But I ignored it, smiling as I placed my bags in the trunk. Even though we had only been out for a couple hours, I was beginning to feel the exhaustion in my bones. I was used to lounging around Eric's room, not running around with a shopaholic vampire. The car sailed smoothly over the asphalt and the luxury seat contoured to my body. Soft, smooth jazz played somewhere in the background; Pam must have turned on the stereo. My eyelids sagged and my head lolled against the seatbelt.

I knew I was dreaming as soon as I felt the gentle, rocking waves. What was it with boats and water in my dreams? I sat up. I had been lying on a raft, mist clouding my surroundings and the horizon. The sun was a hazy orb above me, soft and golden. The water lulled the raft and it lightly floated along, directionless. The fog curtain parted momentarily and Eric stepped onto the raft, barely tipping. I almost groaned. _Not again._ He knelt beside me,

"Vad er du gör här, älska?" His cool hand cupped my cheek and I felt my face fire up like the Human Torch, "Er du forskande för jag?"

"Uh," I couldn't have started off more stupid, "I don't understand what you're saying," I mumbled as he rested his forehead against mine. My heart was beating so fast, blood screamed in my ears. This was tender and kind and _freaking me the fuck out._ Eric wasn't like this. Eric wasn't _anything _like this. Or was he? How much did I really know about him?

"Jag er rätt här. Med du," And he tilted my face up and brought his lips to mine. An electric tingle shot through my spine. My skin prickled and his hand moved to the back of my head, easing me down. My body heat seemed to bounce off him and his cool hands intensified the feeling rippling through me. His kisses were languid and slow, inspiring a deeper want in me. I found myself curling my fingers into his corn silk hair, breathing in his scent of elderberry and pine. He hitched my knee high on his hip and I could feel him against my inner thigh, already stiff. I flushed, pulling away slightly. He didn't seem to mind. He traced my eyebrow with his thumb and whispered,

"Väckande,"

"Wha-?" I blearily opened my eyes. My body ached a little from sleeping in such an odd position. Remembering my dream, I flushed. I hoped I hadn't made any… noises while I was out like a light,

"We're on our way back to Shreveport,"

"I assume you got your shoes?"

"I got my shoes," She smiled. I returned the gesture and shifted in my seat, trying to get comfortable. I could feel the familiar, grainy sensation in my left foot. It had fallen asleep. As darkness and vegetation rushed past us on the empty road, I squirmed suddenly well aware of the pressure in my lower stomach. Fantastic. Maybe I could hold out until we got back to Shreveport… We passed a green and white sign that read _Shreveport 17 mi._ Nope, holding out was not going to happen,

"Can we pull over for a second?"

"Why?" Her eyes narrowed and I briefly wished she'd pay more attention to her driving,

"I have to _go,_" I stressed, crossing my legs,

"Go where?" She seemed oddly bewildered and it would've been cute if I didn't have the incessant need to pee,

"Pee, I have to _pee_, Pam," A look of realization dawned on her face,

"Can't you hold it?" She asked irritably, "We're not that far,"

"Pam," I whined, "Can we _please _pull over?" She shot me a sidelong look, "I _really_ have to go," Pam rolled her eyes, disgusted,

"Humans," but she obliged and the car sailed over to the side. I was out before she put it in neutral, "Hurry up!" She called after me. I half walked, half jogged a good minute into the woods and looked around for a spot to relieve myself. After finishing, began wandering back to the road. The night was alive with fireflies and a symphony of crickets and owls. I breathed in deeply, relishing in the earthy smells. It took a moment for me to realize that the trees had gone quiet. I paused and something instinct in me began to panic. Stopping, I slowly turned. An owl hooted and there was nothing. My lips quirked to the side. Something didn't feel right… But I shook it off; Pam was waiting and if I took any longer, I'd get an earful. Or get left on the side of the road to walk back to Fangtasia.

A pain, scorching and icy, ripped across my back. I choked, flailing and I reached out and grabbed on to sheer, folded fabric and smooth flesh. The ripple went through me and there was fire and chanting and sweat slicked naked bodies, dancing, writhing, the smell of wine and blood and I was _alive _and the Horned God was among us and th- _Lo Lo Bromios, Lo Lo Dendrites, Eleutherios, Enorches, Bacchus-_

Shrieks tore out of my throat like valkyries,

"Pam!" I screamed, "PAM!" I fell on my back and a bull's head loomed above me, claws raised up against the leaves and the moonlight. A whistling tore through the trees and a blurred Pam slammed into the thing. Hot, cold, white bright sizzle snap pop something, _something_ devouring my veins and marrow. My eyes rolled up into my skull as I spasmed in the dirt, muscles twitching, spine arching in exquisite pain. Dying was probably more peaceful. There were roars and screams, a deep, hateful bellow that was cut short by teeth and the sound of suction. Then, I could hear sickness, a violent noise. Gurgling and puking, hoarse, forced breathing. I tried to focus, to see-

Pam was on all fours in the mud, vomiting something black and putrid. The creature was nowhere to be seen.

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Props if you can translate the French and Swedish in this chapter. :)

CLIFFHANGER!

Reviews are Love,

The Author


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